


Blue Neighbourhood // A Series of Tronnor One-Shots

by xshadesofpurple



Category: Connor Franta - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, tronnor - Fandom, troye sivan - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Connor Franta - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, One-Shots, Tronnor, YouTube, blue neighbourhood - Freeform, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xshadesofpurple/pseuds/xshadesofpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of Tronnor one-shots based off of each song from Blue Neighbourhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. WILD

Troye didn't know when it happened, really. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred, but at some point he realized that he couldn't stop thinking about a particular set of green eyes. His mind was constantly abuzz with thoughts of a certain boy. No matter what he was doing, no matter where he was, he couldn't get his mind to calm down.  
  
He spotted green wherever he went, noticed the strong smell of coffee more often than not, and whenever he heard someone say the name "Connor" his eyes darted up almost immediately. Or, at least that's what it felt like anyway. It felt like, at some point, without his noticing and without his permission, his mind had been completely consumed by Connor Franta. And it was driving him _crazy_.  
  
\---  
  
They had been friends for a while, constantly bouncing ideas off of one another and valuing each other's creative opinions above all else. Troye had always appreciated Connor's eye for the little things and Connor had always admired Troye's flair for originality. Apart they were fine, but together they were something else. They really did bring out the best in one another, whether they realized it or not.  
  
Troye considered himself lucky to have someone like Connor in his life, and whether he was willing to admit it or not, the feelings he had for the green-eyed boy were probably there from the start. Locked away in a place they couldn't escape from because 'he is your _friend_ , that would ruin _everything_ , and most importantly, he was _straight_ '.  
  
Yet, a time came when Connor told Troye a truth he'd been hiding away for twenty years and all of those feelings that had been locked away, unbeknownst to their owner, started to leak out. Like a small crack in a dam, Troye started noticing things more. Like the way Connor's face lit up when he smiled, or how his laugh echoed when he found something particularly funny. He noticed how Connor always messed with his hair and how he pursed his lips when he was extra focused on something. Troye noticed his arms, his hands, his shoulders. He was focused on green eyes that seemed to change along with the emotions of the boy who owned them. Troye began to notice all of these things slowly, as the crack in the dam started to let all of his feelings trickle out. Eventually, when the pressure of it all became too much, the dam broke, and Troye ended up with a mind full of endless noise and thoughts of Connor Franta.  
  
Despite all of this, nothing changed between them. At least not drastically anyway. There may have been more charged looks, more time spent with one another, more gentle touches. But overall they felt the same as ever. Things felt natural and comfortable, but beneath all of that there was a quiet charge. Buzzing to be noticed and growing louder by the day, drawing the two boys inexplicably closer to one another.  
  
\---  
  
It was a Friday night. Troye had already been in LA for a few weeks to work on his music, but on this night in particular he was taking a much needed break. He had been working day and night it seemed, trying to perfect songs he'd slowly been writing. Trying to wade through the noise in his head, push past thoughts of the green-eyed boy, or at least turn them into something he could sing about. It was frustrating but rewarding work, and he was happy to have a break and to find himself pressing his finger to the doorbell of Connor's apartment.  
  
Moments later, the smiling face of the boy who had been in his thoughts all day pulled open the door. "Hey!" he grinned, stepping aside to let Troye into his apartment, "How'd your day go?"  
  
Troye shrugged, a smile of his own creeping onto his face. He couldn't even help it; it was just a natural reaction whenever he saw the other's smile. "The usual. Just trying to make sense of all my thoughts and get something out there that's good. It's gotta feel right, y'know?"  
  
"I get it." Connor hummed, shutting the door to his apartment as they headed towards the living room.  
  
They'd always been on the same page creativity-wise. They were both hard-workers, always seeking for perfection in every little thing that they did. It gave them a mutual understanding and respect for one another. It gave them the feeling that they could look into one another's head and at least somewhat have an idea of what was going on, because they'd been there before, experienced it all.  
  
"I'm excited to take a break though. This night out is sooo needed." Troye groaned, flopping onto the couch and shutting his eyes for a brief moment.  
  
"Good!" Connor grinned, as Troye opened his eyes to find the older boy standing in front of him, holding out an already opened beer. "Because tonight is about to be fun, and we don't need you distracted by work."  
  
"Keep these coming and I won't be." Troye laughed, taking the offered drink and raising it as if to say 'cheers' before taking a sip. Connor flopped down on the couch next to him with a drink of his own, grabbing his laptop to show Troye some songs he had found earlier.  
  
Troye smiled softly, listening to the other boy go on and on about anything and everything. Connor could probably talk about dirt and Troye would be invested in it. There was just something about the way his eyes lit up when he was passionate about something that made Troye's heart shake and his ribs feel like they were filled with butterflies.  
  
"Hey!" Connor said, snapping a finger in front of his face, effectively knocking Troye out of another train of thought filled with Connor Franta, "I said not to be distracted by work!"  
  
"Okay, okay! I'm not, I swear!" Troye laughed, finally sitting up to look at what Connor had been trying to show him.  
  
_If only he knew what I'd actually been thinking about_ , Troye thought. Biting his bottom lip, he took a quick glance over to the boy next to him. Green eyes turned to meet blue briefly, a small smile covering thin lips. It was a smile Troye couldn't help to return as they both turned back to the screen to discuss the song Connor had brought up earlier.  
  
The night continued on as such. More drinks. More laughs. More sideways glances. More smiles. The occasional light touch. The buzz between them growing as time went on.  
  
After an hour or so, and after they were sufficiently buzzed themselves, Connor grabbed his phone to check his messages.  
  
"Shit, my phone was on silent." he said, "Ty texted, they're on their way out now. You ready to go?"  
  
"Yup! Let's go! Call the Uber! I'm ready to daaaance!" Troye said happily, with a dorky little twirl that made his curls bounce. He had an extra spark in his eye that was mainly due to the alcohol but also partially due to the boy in front of him. That goofy smile plastered onto his face because, for whatever reason, something so simple was making him inexplicably happy.  
  
\---  
  
Not long after they were in the Uber and headed downtown to meet up with their friends. They hopped from bar to bar, the night filled with dancing and drinks and laughter. And maybe they sat a little closer than they needed to in the cab, and maybe they stuck by one another for most of the night. Maybe, when they were in a particularly dark bar, Troye would place his hand on Connor's knee and when he got the chance, and no one was looking, Connor would brush a curl out of Troye's eye.  
  
With every look, every light touch, every laugh, Troye could feel himself falling faster and faster. Sometimes it felt like they were in their own little world.  
  
As the night went on, Troye found himself looking at Connor more and more. At the strong line of his jaw, the slightly toned muscles of his arms, the way his laugh was short but loud and filled with happiness.  
  
At some point during all of this looking and distraction Troye realized how badly he _wanted_ him. In every sense of the phrase, he wanted him. He wanted to hold him and touch him and feel him. And at the same time he just wanted to sit in silence with him, to feel his breath on the back of his neck, to let their fingers brush comfortably against one another, to be at peace in each other's company. He wanted to listen to Connor's laugh and his voice for hours on end. In that moment, he realized he could never get enough.  
  
"See something you like, Troye boy?" Connor teased once, catching blue eyes scanning him, searching him.  
  
Troye laughed it off, sending a teasing wink in Connor's direction, but inside his heart was shaking.  
  
A moment later he excused himself to the restroom. Rounding the dark corner that led to the men's room, Troye rested his back against the wall once he was out of sight. He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath and breathing it out slowly. _This has got to stop. You have to stop thinking about him like that. He is your **friend** , Troye. _he thought to himself _, This could ruin everything_.  
  
Troye gave himself a moment to clear the fuzz in his brain that was the result of both the alcohol and thoughts of Connor before he headed back to find his friends. And while he kept trying to remind himself that _this could ruin everything_ , he couldn't completely silence the small voice in the back of his head that whispered, _This could be **everything**_.  
  
\---  
  
The night had finally come to an end and they were on their way home, shoulders resting comfortably against one another in the cab as they headed back to Connor's apartment. Troye was grateful his friends in LA let him crash at their places whenever he was in town and he was particularly grateful that he'd be staying at Connor's tonight.  
  
"Tonight was good." Connor said quietly as the cab came to a stop. Troye hummed softly in agreement as they got out of the car, both a little shaky from the drinks but overall the high of the night still present in their eyes.  
  
"Wait, where are we?" Troye laughed as the cab drove off and he realized they weren't actually outside of Connor's apartment.  
  
"Shit, I must've put the address in wrong." Connor laughed as he looked around as well. "We're not far though, it's down the street."  
  
"You're trying to get us murdered Con." Troye joked, which earned him a playful shove to the shoulder before they began to head down the sidewalk towards Connor's apartment.  
  
They fell into a comfortable silence. Their fingers occasionally brushing against one another's as they walked side by side, enjoying the comfort and familiarity that the other person brought to them.  
  
After a few moments, Connor's soft voice broke the silence, "I'm glad you're here." he said, almost nervously, "I miss you, you know? When you're back in Australia."  
  
Troye's eyes shifted to meet green ones and he was taken aback by the emotion he saw there. It was an emotion he had never noticed before, and maybe it had always been there and he was just too blind to see it, too caught up in the idea that they could only ever be friends to acknowledge it.  
  
It was then that Troye realized that at some point they had stopped walking. He wasn't sure how long the silence had stretched, how long they had been looking into each other's eyes trying to read the emotions they both saw there, and no matter how much one side of his brain was screaming to stop it, he couldn't look away. There was so much Troye wanted to say. _I miss you too. You're on my mind constantly. I can't get you out of my head. I **need** you._  
  
There was just _so much_ he wanted to say, but he had been trying so hard not to fall for this boy and saying all of that would be admitting to it. But the little voice in his head from earlier was back, there to remind him that pushing it all away just _wasn't working_.  
  
Troye didn't know whether the way his heart was racing and how his brain was fuzzy was the result of the alcohol or the boy standing in front of him. Regardless, he knew what he did next was the result of that totally euphoric feeling that had been eating up every inch of his being.  
  
He reached out a hand, gently brushing the edges of Connor's hair out of his face before letting his fingers trace down his jaw, finally resting underneath his chin, gently lifting it up. The charge in the air was almost palpable at this point. Blue eyes finally broke from green to shift down to a set of thin lips before they were back up again and fluttering closed as he leaned in, finally pressing his lips to the ones beneath him.  
  
The kiss was soft and sweet. Innocent in a way, but full of energy at the same time. Troye couldn't tell if it lasted seconds or hours before he pulled away, eyes fluttering back open to meet Connor's, the realization of what he did slowly settling down into his clouded brain.  
  
"I—" Troye started, his heartbeat picking up once again, trying to form some semblance of an apology for what he'd just done, for breaking that barrier of friendship between them, for doing something he knew he could never go back from.  
  
It took a moment for Connor to realize what was going through the other boy's head before his eyes hardened and his jaw set. "Don't." was all he said before reaching up to place his hand on the back of Troye's neck, bringing their lips together once again.  
  
This time their kiss was heated, more passionate. Troye's hands found their way to Connor's hips, pulling him in closer. Connor took a few steps forward and Troye found his back pressed up against the fence outside of someone's apartment, letting Connor sink into him, letting the spark of their lips slide through his body, making him shiver.  
  
Lips parted, eyes closed. Hands roaming, tongues exploring. It was everything Troye hoped it would be and everything he never imagined it could be.  
  
This was how they made their way home. Wrapped up in each other, kissing up on fences and walls, letting their hands brush and their eyes meet.  
  
"You're all I think about, y'know?" Connor said breathlessly once they had reached his front door.  
  
Troye let out a laugh, thinking about the irony of it all. "You have no idea." he said.  
  
\---  
  
That night, Troye slept in Connor's bed.  
  
Legs entwined, arms over chests, soft breaths on the backs of necks. They woke up to occasional kisses, fingers running through hair, chills when hands touched bare skin.  
  
Nothing more happened than that, but it was enough. Everything was new and everything was exciting, and there was a part of Troye that didn't believe it was real until the next morning when he saw Connor's messy hair resting on the pillow beside his own.  
  
"Hey." Troye whispered when green eyes opened to meet blue ones.  
  
"Morning." Connor said softly, a smile spreading across his face that Troye couldn't help to match before he was pulled into another kiss that made him feel like he was floating on air.  
  
\---  
  
Weeks later, Troye was back home in Australia. The days he'd spent with Connor had felt like a paradox: an eternity that was not nearly long enough.  
  
Ultimately, nothing had changed. His mind was still abuzz with thoughts of Connor Franta. Green eyes still made his heart flutter and the smell of coffee in the morning made his heart ache with nostalgia. It was a happy pain, one he wouldn't trade for the world. A pain that made his heart jump at thoughts of flying out to LA even if it were just for a weekend. A pain that made his heart long for more chances to get out of his hometown.  
  
You hear about love all of the time. You read about it in books and you see it in the movies.  
  
_But nothing, **nothing**_. Troye thought, _compares to when you are living it yourself._  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n THERE YOU HAVE IT. MY FIRST FANFICTION. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, please leave me your comments letting me know what you think! 
> 
> There'll be one fic for each song off of Blue Neighbourhood. I'm not sure of my timeline because holidays and being out of town, but I'll try my best.
> 
> You can find this over on Wattpad as well if you prefer, under the same username! 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING xx -Angela


	2. BITE

Frustrated blue eyes stared back at their own reflection, glancing up and down for what seemed like the millionth time, taking in the outfit on his body.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” he decided, biting his bottom lip and glancing over to his best friend who was sitting on his bed, scrolling through her phone as she waited for Troye to decide what to wear.

“Troye! You look fine,” Kayla groaned, finally looking up and moving to walk over to him, “You’ve tried on like, fifty outfits already,” she laughed.

“Okay, don’t exaggerate,” he said with a teasing glare, before adding, “I just-- don’t wanna look bad, y’know? Like, what do people even wear to a gay club?”

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” she laughed, “Wear what you normally wear, just be yourself. Who’re you trying to impress, really?”

“Boys.” Troye laughed, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he pulled his best friend into a hug, because she was right. When the hell did he go back to caring what people thought of his clothes?

He blamed it on the nerves. It’s not like he hadn’t been out before; he was eighteen years old, he’d been to his fair share of parties. But this would be his first time in a “gay club” and for some reason that was intimidating him a little more than usual.

“You’re right. What the hell am I doing?” Troye laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Kayla’s forehead before letting her go.

“I’m right? Can you say that one more time?” Kayla mocked, a grin spreading across her face as Troye just rolled his eyes.

Later that night he left the house in his typical pair of ripped skinny jeans, a black tee and his platform converse. Simple, but quintessentially Troye.

\---

“I have no idea what to expect,” Troye admitted as they stood outside the club, nervously running a hand through his curls. The bass from the music could be heard clearly even from outside and the sidewalk was littered with an assortment of people. It was terrifying, but at the same time it was also exhilarating.

“Don’t have expectations or it’ll ruin it for you,” Kayla said simply, before grabbing his arm to pull him inside.

Once there, the vocals to whatever hit track was playing could just barely be heard over the loud bass. The club was dark, with a sea of bodies dancing in the middle and lights reflecting off of drinks held in the air.  
  
There were just so many people. So many sweaty, shirtless people. And Troye had never felt smaller in his entire life.

He felt his eyes grow a little wider and his heartbeat speed up. He felt the brush of a hand on his shoulder that almost made him jump out of his skin as a boy walked past him and winked on his way to the dance floor.

Honestly, Troye was starting to regret not getting a little buzzed before coming here in order to quell his nerves. It wasn’t like him to be intimidated by other people and he was frustrated that it was even happening.

Realistically he knew that he wasn’t being unreasonable. It had only been three short years since he had truly come to terms with and admitted his sexuality. And three years, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t very much; especially to go from completely hiding the fact that you like boys to being in a room full of sweaty, shirtless men.

And on top of all that, he was only eighteen. Some of the people in this room had probably been that age when he was born. He felt like everyone was twice his size, towering over his skinny frame. He felt like they all knew and understood so much more than him, and he wanted to learn but at the same time he was still a little bit terrified of that prospect.

Sometime during this inner monologue, Kayla and the rest of their friends had pushed him over to the bar and a shot was waiting patiently in front of him. It only took one glance over to his smiling best friend beside him, who looked as happy and excited as any eighteen year old could, to ease away some of his nerves. Without a second thought, he grabbed the small cup in front of him and let the alcohol burn its way past his lips and down his throat.

\---

Several shots and a drink in hand later, as the warmth of the alcohol invaded his veins and heated his cheeks, Troye found himself out on the dance floor. He found himself swimming instead of drowning in that sea of bodies that had intimidated him so much earlier.

He closed his eyes, letting the beat of the music flow through him, the buzz of the alcohol making him care a little less about what his dance moves actually looked like.

He opened his eyes periodically, blue occasionally meeting with browns or hazels or blues or greens. Sometimes there was a little spark and Troye would find himself drawn towards the other person, letting hands brush shoulders and hips as they danced. But ultimately Troye always moved away near the end of the song, searching for another person to connect with.

\--

Troye couldn’t tell you how long he went on like that, moving from person to person, exploring and letting the music guide him. But at some point he opened his eyes and realized that his friends were nowhere to be seen and as the buzz from their earlier drinks was slowly subsiding, he decided it would be best to find them.

Breaking away from a particularly good-looking shirtless blonde-haired boy, Troye made his way back to the bar. His blue eyes searched from left to right, still having yet to spot Kayla or any of his other friends when he reached the bar, leaning against it to scan across its length.

When he looked to his right for a second time, getting a little flustered from his lack of success, his eyes were met by a pair of startling green ones.

“Looking for something?” the owner of those eyes asked in an American accent, a small smirk playing across his thin lips. The smirk was playful, but also soft and friendly, unlike many of the ones Troye had received out on the dance floor.

“Uh, yeah.” Troye said, trying to compose himself and gather his thoughts back into his muddled brain. Those green eyes had momentarily knocked every thought he had to the wayside. He thought the alcohol had been wearing off, but maybe he was wrong. It was either that or this boy in front of him was capable of throwing him totally off balance.

“I was just looking for my friends. I can’t seem to find them anywhere,” Troye said sheepishly, running a hand through the short hair on the back of his neck, “I was just caught up in dancing and like, shirtless guys, and I totally lost track of the time so—“ Troye rambled, stopping abruptly when he realized he was probably oversharing, looking a little mortified for doing so.

The green-eyed boy let out a laugh, and it was short and sweet and loud, but in a comforting sort of way. In a way that allowed Troye to let out a small laugh of his own, his previous embarrassment quickly waning.

After that, the two quickly fell into conversation. Like old friends who just hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

Troye found out that the boy in front of him was a 21-year old college student from Minnesota, wherever the hell that was, who was on a trip with a group of his friends for winter break. Troye told him he grew up in Perth, lived in a small town with a close family, and how this was actually his first time out at a gay club, something he found they surprisingly had in common.

Troye learned of the boy’s love for photography and appreciation of coffee and shared with him his own love for music and singing. They talked and drank for some time, falling easily into their conversation, easily into each other’s eyes.

They were at the same time both very alike and yet fundamentally different. Maybe that was why their conversation stretched longer than any other Troye had had that night. And maybe that was why he had momentarily forgotten about finding his friends. And it was definitely why, after a few more drinks and a little more confidence, Troye pulled the slightly shorter boy out onto the dance floor with him, earning him another one of those short, loud laughs and a sparkle from those green eyes.

\---

The thump of the bass seemed quieter now, the crowds of people less invasive, all because Troye was focused on the green eyes in front of him. Occasionally those eyes would close, as did blue ones, to soak up the music and the feeling of hands brushing down sides, across shoulders, eventually gripping hips. The feeling of being so close that chests brushed and hot breath along with soft lips ghosted on the outside of his ear. Occasionally, they let their foreheads rest against one another's, eyes closed or open, moving with the beat of the music.

Their conversation continued on the dance floor but it was physical now instead of vocal, although it was just as informative. When their eyes caught, an exchange took place that only they could understand.

In a moment between one song ending and the next beat starting, Troye lightly brushed his lips against the one’s that had been taunting him earlier. It was brief, and could even have been mistaken as an accident based on how close they were, but the way Troye’s hooded eyes looked into green ones afterward betrayed any semblance of innocence he might have had.

There was a brief pause where Troye almost began to question his boldness before he was pulled into a more substantial kiss. He felt fingers running through the hair on the back of his neck and a tongue sliding along his bottom lip, which he happily parted his own lips in order to accept.

This went on for the remainder of the song and as the next one came on with a slightly slower beat, Troye felt lips pull away from his own only to slide along his jaw, pressing a few light kisses there before moving to his neck.

Troye inadvertently let out a slight groan of pleasure, letting his eyes close and his head tilt back slightly, giving the other boy more access to his neck. He felt those lips falter as the other boy let out a slight chuckle in response, making the grin that Troye spread across his face inevitable.

Hands moved from the back of his neck to around his shoulders, holding him close. Even though the boy was slightly shorter than him, he was still so much bigger in a way. Once again Troye was back to feeling like a small child, but unlike how he had felt earlier he now felt comfortable and relaxed, protected almost.

The feeling of slightly toned arms wrapped around him in a warm embrace with lips planting heated kisses on his neck was both affectionate and enticing. It was a contradiction of feelings to have for someone he had just met, but one Troye could definitely get on board with.

Eventually lips were removed from his neck and he opened his eyes, catching green ones and a small smile on thin lips. “I think I need some air,” they said.

“Yeah,” Troye agreed breathlessly, dragging a hand through the sweaty curls that had been hanging in front of his forehead.

Seconds later he found a strong hand gripping his own, pulling him out of the crowd and into the fresh night air.

\--

Troye blinked a few times, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust from the darkness of the club to the bright streetlights outside.

“I don’t normally do this,” the other boy confessed, to which Troye gave him a quizzical look, not really hearing him since his brain was still sort of muffled from the change in atmosphere and the alcohol was still clouding his brain.

His ears were still ringing from the music and just starting to adjust to the quieter, although by no means quiet, sidewalk outside. A fresh gust of wind blew, cooling the sweat from his skin and making him realize just how it was making his hair stick to his forehead and his shirt stick to his skin. And what was even more distracting was that he had also just started to notice how the shirt on the other boy was sticking to his skin, leaving some things to the imagination but managing to reveal just enough that Troye became uncomfortably conscious of the tightness in his jeans.

“Make out with someone the first time I meet them,” the other boy clarified with a laugh, snapping Troye’s attention back to his words and drawing his eyes up from where they had begun to wander past hips in order to meet green ones once again.

“Neither do I,” he answered truthfully, but he started to get distracted again as his eyes began to wander over shoulders and down arms, not really noticing when the other boy pulled him away from the groups of people outside and around the corner to a less populated alleyway. Troye just took that time to let his eyes wander over the muscles on his back and admire from this angle just how well his jeans fit him.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.” Troye mumbled, not even realizing he had vocalized that thought until a second too late, his eyes widening a bit at what he had just heard himself say.

Green eyes spun around to meet his, a little bit of shock present along with a teasing glint, a small smirk playing on those thin lips.

“I mean—like, I like you. Even though we just met. And I enjoyed talking to you and I think we have a lot in common…” Troye rambled, trying to backtrack a little bit from what he had just said in an attempt to make it less embarrassing when in all likelihood he was just making it worse.

But that laugh that Troye had already grown to appreciate so much rang through the night air, easing his heartbeat that had started to speed up.

“I like you too,” Troye was relieved to hear, “And you don’t look so bad yourself,” green eyes added with a teasing wink.

With that, Troye let out a laugh of his own and before he knew it he was pulled into another kiss. Letting his eyes drift closed, he allowed any remaining nervousness to melt away. For the first time that night, he let the thrill of it all completely take over.

He tangled his hands through the back of lighter brown hair, pressing just about as close as he could get. Hands gripped his hips and soon his back was against the brick wall of the building next to him.

Chest to chest, the feeling of hands roaming his sides, eventually slipping underneath his shirt. A gentle tug of teeth on his bottom lip causing blue eyes to fly open to meet mischievous green ones.

In that moment, Troye let that look in those green eyes take over him. Lips moving to the shorter boys jaw, hands moving to slide down the back that he had previously been admiring. And when he felt a leg press between his own he let out an involuntary gasp, which earned him a chuckle.

But before things went any further, Troye felt a buzzing in his pocket and he heard the familiar ringtone of his phone. He groaned, resting his forehead on the shoulder beneath him, knowing his friends were definitely looking for him and probably a little bit worried at this point.

“You should get that,” he heard the other boy say, before he felt a hand reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his phone for him.

Troye pulled away slightly, glancing at the phone being offered to him before looking at those green eyes once again. They only showed amusement and what looked to be happiness, which made Troye feel oddly content about the situation.

“Hey Kayla,” Troye said when he answered the phone, hearing the loud music from inside the club through the speaker before he even heard her voice.

“Troye! Where are you?! We’ve been looking for like, ever,” she said, sounding slightly exasperated, but in a way that he knew she didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for you earlier but then I got dis-distracted.” Troye managed to get out, his words faltering when he felt lips on his neck again, moving down to his collar bone with teeth raking gently against his skin.

“Distracted?” Kayla questioned, and Troye could hear her interest through the phone, could see the eyebrow raising on her face.

Troye bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the conversation at hand but becoming slowly more interested in those hands that had made their way underneath his shirt again. “Like, I ran into someone,” he clarified.

“Like, someone you know or someone you met?!” Kayla asked, probably way too excited for him, which is what made her such a great friend to begin with.

“Someone I met,” he managed to get out before he felt hands slide across his chest and a nip below the collar of his shirt, causing him to let out a little gasp that he tried to hold back.

“Ohmygod, TROYE!” Kayla essentially screamed, her delight practically oozing through the phone, “Are you with him right now?!”

“No—I mean, yes. Fuck. Where are you? I’ll meet you,” Troye ground out, lips pulling away from him and hands sliding out from underneath his shirt as green eyes met blue with a smirk. Troye pushed his shoulder playfully, as if he were actually mad, before letting his hand slide down his side to rest on the other boy’s hip.

“We’ll come outside, we already called the cab! So get in your last few seconds of fun,” Kayla teased before hanging up on him.

Troye let out a little laugh, looking down briefly and sliding his phone back into his pocket before letting their eyes meet again, “My friends are leaving,” he said with a little pout, before moving the hand from his hip into the boy’s pocket to pull out his phone, “But, call me? If you want?” Troye said as he added his number to his phone, leaving it open as a question as they separated slightly and moved back around the corner.

Honestly, he didn’t know if that was weird or not. They had just met and maybe, despite everything they had said, this really was just some kind of little hook-up at the club. And ultimately, he knew it was ridiculous because this kid was from the other side of the world. But, at the same time, Troye also knew he’d regret it if he didn’t at least try.

Thin lips parted to say something back as his phone was handed back to him, but before he could get anything out, a loud “TROOOOOYE,” rang from just behind them, causing said boy to turn around.

And before he even really knew what was happening, his friends had grabbed his hand and were pulling him towards their cab. But just before he was shoved inside he saw the smile on the green-eyed boy’s face and heard him say, “It was nice meeting you,” he paused, “Troye.” Which caused the goofiest of grins to spread across Troye’s face.

\--

“So, tell me everything,” Kayla gushed, throwing her arm around him as the cab drove off, “He was cute! Who was he? What was his name?”

Troye was about to speak, but stopped before he got anything out, his mouth just sort of hanging there for a second, “Shit,” he finally let out.

“What?!” Kayla asked.

Despite talking about anything and everything. Despite spending the majority of his time at the club with this boy. Despite kissing him and letting his hands run all over the place. And despite the fact that there had definitely been some sort of spark, some blatant connection, between them. He had forgotten to get his name?!

Troye turned to look Kayla dead in the eye, completely dumbfounded by his realization, “I forgot to ask.”

And with that his best friend burst out laughing, and a second later he did the same.

\--

The next morning Troye woke up to the sun shining through his window and onto his sheets, the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to him. He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as he opened them, shielding them from the sunlight that wasn’t helping the slight pounding in his head.

He lay like that for a moment, until he heard his phone buzz again. He reached over to the side, blindly reaching for his phone until he found it, pulling it in front of his face to see who had texted him.

His eyebrows knit together when he noticed it was from a number he didn’t recognize. Clicking open the text, he read: “Hi! Last night was fun, and normally I wouldn’t be so forward so quickly but I leave tomorrow, so. Wanna meet for coffee later today? I’d love to see you again.”

It took Troye’s groggy brain a second to process, but after reading the word “coffee” he put two and two together, images of green eyes and soft brown hair and that laugh rushing back into his memory. Despite his slight hangover he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face about this boy he barely knew.

Just as he was about to type a reply, his phone buzzed again. A second message appeared, adding: “It’s Connor, btw.”

“Connor.” Troye repeated out loud. He liked the way it sounded on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you liked this! I honestly have mixed feelings about it. Like, it might be great but it might also be trash?! I DON’T KNOW.
> 
> BITE is my least favorite song (eep, I’m so sorry) so I struggled with this a bit, but I think ultimately I’m happy with it. ☺ Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Also, this one is set a little more in an AU than my previous one, but it was the only way I felt I could get their characters right to fit within the context of a song that is very obviously not about Connor, so! There’ll be some variation overall between each song and how it’s written, so I hope you guys like that.
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts! Thank you for your kind words on the last chapter, it really motivated me to keep going!
> 
> Also, you can expect more frequent updates now that I’m back from being out of town, but if you want updates on my writing process or to ever throw an idea my way, follow me on tumblr @xshadesofpurple.
> 
> THANK YOU, THANK YOU. ENJOY.


	3. FOOLS

Troye sighed, the soft breath of air ghosting past his slightly chapped lips as he ran a hand through the tangled knots on his head.

He was standing in his hotel room, in front of the big picture window looking out at the city. Through the glass he looked down on busy streets, flashing lights, people walking quickly to escape the light drizzle of rain that had just started. He shifted his gaze upward to view the setting sun as it threw shades of red and orange and even some purple over the skyscrapers that outlined the city.

He was in the middle of his tour, having already spent several months traveling from city to city, constantly shuffling from place to place, with several more months to go. Even if he wasn’t performing one day, much like today, he was still busy with rehearsals and meetings and interviews. It left him little time for much else and by the time he came home, as much as you could call a hotel _home_ , he was completely exhausted.

Now, this isn’t to say that Troye hated what he was doing. He loved it, actually, he really did. If he stayed in one place for too long, he’d get bored. But constant travel did have it’s downsides, especially when it came to relationships

Troye tore his gaze away from the setting sun and the city skyline, moving away from the window, letting bare feet scuff along the carpeted floor. With arms crossed over his chest, he made his way to the mini-bar, squatting down and reaching out an arm to open it up. He peered inside at the contents for longer than he probably needed to, but his brain just felt so fuzzy and exhausted from the long day he had had.

Deciding on a little bottle of Tanqueray, he stood up, kicking the fridge door closed with his foot before filling a glass with a few pieces of ice and pouring the liquid inside. He finally moved to his bed, flopping his body on top of the sheets and leaning back against the pillows as he let his eyes slip closed.

He brought the glass to his lips, letting the slight burn from the gin slide easily down his throat. He laid like that for a minute, letting the warmth of the alcohol settle into his chest.

Opening his eyes, he set his drink on the nightstand beside him and reached for his phone instead. Clicking it open, he realized he had a missed call from Connor that was from several hours before.

A slight frown appeared on his features and a familiar painful twinge gripped his heart. Opening his missed call log, he frowned even further. There was a lot of red and several of it was Connor’s name over the course of several days, months even.

A dull ache settled over his heart. He never wanted it to be like this, but at the same time they both just had so much going on.

Troye grabbed his drink, quickly taking another sip to let the burn replace the pressure in his chest that seeing those missed calls had caused.

He pressed his finger to Connor’s name on the screen, setting his drink back down and placing the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring. Troye didn’t think he would pick up. While it was evening for him here, it was the middle of the afternoon in LA. Troye knew Connor had meetings all day, but he couldn’t help it. The ache in his chest had just become overwhelming at that point and he needed to hear Connor’s voice, hear that everything was okay.

As he listened to the line ring on the other end, Troye’s mind started to race, his thoughts running out of control. He just became so _worried_ all of a sudden and he didn’t exactly know why.

 _Don’t be stupid, Troye. Everything is fine. You’re both busy people doing something you love. Connor knows that, you know that. It sucks but it isn’t that big of a deal,_ one side of his brain was telling him.

But the other side had a different idea in mind, _How in the world could everything be okay? When was the last time you had a substantial conversation? When was the last time you saw him? This life you live makes relationships impossible. Only a fool would fall for you, and only an even bigger fool would stay with you._

“Troye?” a voice on the other end of the line said, pulling Troye quickly out of his inner conflict.  
  
“Connor,” Troye breathed out, immensely grateful to hear that voice on the other line. He really thought he’d be too busy to answer.

“Is everything okay?” Connor asked, hearing the strain coming from Troye’s side of the phone. He only asked because he knew Troye was somewhat aware of his schedule and knew he had a meeting soon.

“Yeah, I mean— I guess,” Troye answered, “Was just a bit stressed, that’s all.”

“Stressed about what?”

“Just— being away all of the time, not seeing anyone. Y’know,” he paused for a moment, “Not hearing from you.”

“Yeah,” Connor answered after a pause of his own, “But it’s not like I haven’t tried,” he added, with more steel to his voice than he probably intended, taking Troye aback for a moment.

“Con,” Troye said, almost nervous, “Is everything okay with _you_?”

Connor’s response was delayed, making Troye sit upright on the bed, his nerves quickly beginning to heighten as the silence between them became strained, “Connor,” he repeated.

“We don’t need to be having this conversation right now,” Connor finally said.

“What conversation?!” Troye asked, almost completely panicked at this point but trying to rein it in, trying to not let it slip out in his tone although he wasn’t exactly succeeding at that.

“Troye, we don’t need to do this right now.”  
  
“Do what? Connor, _what_ is going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He heard the green-eyed boy sigh through the phone, “Nothing. It’s like you said, it’s hard not hearing from you. And I’ve been trying, and I know we’re both busy but— ”

“But what?” Troye breathed out, not knowing if he really wanted to know the answer to that question.  
  
“I don’t know, we’re just _different_.” Connor said, a hint of frustration in his voice.  
  
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Troye questioned. He didn’t mean to get snappy with him, he really didn’t, but he was absolutely freaking out. _Where was this coming from?!_ But a little voice in his head whispered, _You know where_.

“I don’t know, Troye! We have different lives, we’re both constantly busy. You’re constantly somewhere new—.”  
  
Troye cut him off, “Okay, I’m aware of that. But what do you want me to do?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Connor snapped out with a frustrated sigh, “I don’t want you to do anything different. I would never ask you to do anything different, because I love what you do and I wouldn’t want you to stop that for me. But this long distance thing—,” Connor paused, taking a breath and collecting his thoughts, Troye’s heart pounding as he waited for his next words, “I have a lot of shit of my plate right now, and this isn’t helping.”  
  
“Connor—,” Troye started, but was at a loss for what to say.  
  
“It’s just—it’s like I said. We’re just too different.” Connor finally said, and for some reason those words lit a spark in Troye and for a moment a surge of anger took over any fear he might have been feeling.  
  
“That is _bullshit_ and you know it!” he let out, his voice slightly raised, his blue eyes wild, “Yeah, we have our differences but we have our similarities too. And—we click Connor, we always have. We just make sense for one another, and I know you know that,” Troye paused, taking in a shaky breath, his anger subsiding and that fear returning, along with what felt like sadness.  
  
The silence stretched between them, the green-eyed boy not offering a response to that outburst.

“I love you, Connor.” Troye breathed out, his voice much quieter now and finally cracking as he felt the tears welling up behind his eyes, “You _know_ that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Connor finally said, after another long pause that felt like an eternity, “This just isn’t working.”  
  
Troye could hear the strain in his voice, could hear how hard this was for him to say, “ _What_ isn’t working?” Troye asked softly, not wanting to hear the answer he was afraid he already knew but he needed to know what was going on in his boyfriend’s head.

“Us,” Connor finally choked out and Troye felt his heart plunge into his stomach, his hand unconciously gripping onto his t-shirt. He felt a physical pain in his chest and bile rising in his throat. _What the fuck was happening_?  
  
“Con—,” Troye started, voice weak, but the other boy quickly cut him off.  
  
“My meeting starts in like, one second. I have to go,” he said shortly.  
  
“Connor!” Troye practically shouted into the phone, blue eyes widening in indignation.

“I have to go,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

And with that Troye heard the familiar three beeps of the phone hanging up, pulling it away from his head slowly to stare at the screen in shock, verifying for his brain that that was really where their conversation had ended.

Troye let his phone drop from his hand and onto the bed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead between them, burying his face and tangling his fingers in the back of his hair, trying to repress the painful ache in his chest.

 _What had just happened? Had Connor just broken up with him?  
  
_ He hadn’t been expecting that _at all._ He knew things weren’t perfect, by any means, how could they be? Their lives were complicated. But _this?_ It seemed so out of nowhere. At least, to _him_. All of this time he had been oblivious to what Connor had been going through and that thought alone made him feel sick.

 _I’m sorry_.

The last words Connor had said to him floated back into his head, and Troye didn’t know whether he was apologizing for hanging up or if he was apologizing for things ending this way. A sharp pain in his chest at that thought made him think it was the latter.

\---

The next day was almost a blur. Troye was just going through the motions, his mind unfocused, his hair rumpled, his bright blue eyes dull and full of sadness.

He felt like the air weighed a million pounds and was pressing down on his shoulders in an unbearable way. Every so often pieces of last night’s conversation would float into his mind and Troye felt a physical pain in his chest. His stomach would tie into knots and he would legitimately feel nauseous.

He tried calling Connor several times throughout the day but to no avail. He just wasn’t answering.

And Troye _needed_ answers. He needed _something_. He felt like he couldn’t go on for another second like this. The negative side to his thoughts kept telling him he already knew everything there was to know: Connor had been clear, they were over. But the other, slightly more reasonable, side of his brain knew this wasn’t true. Their conversation had been rushed and ambiguous and it had ended too abruptly to be taken at face value.

These were the thoughts that weighed on Troye’s mind all day and anyone around him could tell that something was seriously wrong, so they treaded carefully, gentle with their words and going as easy on him as they could. But he had a show tonight and he couldn’t just stop working because he felt like his world was falling apart.

The day passed like this, with Troye lost in his own head, and before he knew it the night was here. When the time came for him to perform, he stood in the darkness backstage, arms crossed over his chest while he chewed on his bottom lip. Against his wishes, memories floated into his head about times before.

Times when Connor had been backstage with him, encouraging him with only a look. That was all it took; for him to catch those green eyes with his blue ones and any butterflies he might have had about going on stage would have disappeared. He’d feel a squeeze to his shoulder before he headed out on stage and it was the most comforting thing in the world. _Something he never appreciated enough_.

Troye squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears that the memories threatened to conjure up. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and his eyes flew open, looking behind him quickly to find the face of his manager, Dani, standing there with a soft smile. Troye somehow managed to offer a small smile back, mostly because he could tell the concern on her face was genuine.

“Put everything you’re feeling into the music,” she said softly.

It was the only thing he could do, really. With his jaw set and a curt nod, he headed onto stage to face the screaming crowd. When the first few beats of the opening song began, he let every emotion he had been feeling pour out into his music.

Tonight, he wasn’t focused on the crowds, he wasn’t focused on his performance, he was focused on the music. On the emotions, on that pain in his chest that made his heart feel like it was physically breaking in half. The music was the only thing that let him get it all out, let him deal with it properly.

When the show was over, Troye made his way off stage, running thin fingers through sweaty curls as he headed down a short set of steps. Once at the bottom, he glanced up and another memory hit him like a punch to the chest.

A memory of Connor standing backstage after one of his shows, green eyes lit up with pure delight and immense pride. “You were _amazing_ ,” he would say, before wrapping his boyfriend up in the tightest, most heart warming hug. And that stupid smile Troye only ever got when he was really, truly happy would spread across his face. Because this was _everything_. Everything he could have ever hoped for.

Troye stood at the bottom of the staircase, not moving, a dead look in his eyes as the memory flooded him and the realization that he may never get that back took hold. A second later, he was flying outside. The chilly night air hitting him like a brick wall, but he hardly noticed, intent on pulling his phone out of his pocket to check his messages.

A few steps in, he stopped again, staring down at his phone. Nothing.

No missed calls, no text messages, nothing. Even after all the calls he had left him.

“Fuck!” Troye shouted, literally throwing his phone to the ground, burying his face in his hands before pulling his fingers through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. He rested his back against the wall of the building, his shoulders visibly shaking. The pain in his chest was everywhere now, taking over his whole body. He felt the tears well up, the pressure behind his eyes becoming unbearable. And as he squeezed those blue eyes shut in an attempt to fight the tears off, a few managed to escape, running down his cheeks as he slid down the wall and onto the sidewalk.

 _How was this happening?_ He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. _How could it be over?_ The one thing in his life that had made him indescribably happy; the one thing that brought him an immense amount of joy. Over. And for what? Differences that barely even existed; differences that only made them better? Just because it was long distance and they were both living their own respective dreams? Why did that have to stop them from being together? It shouldn’t. It was worth fighting for. _They_ were worth fighting for.

Troye didn’t want to have to choose between his career and a relationship that meant more to him than words could explain, and he didn’t want Connor to have to choose either. He wasn’t going to give up the love of his life because of _this_. Part of him thought it was selfish, and the other part of him knew it was the only option. _He wanted it all._ No, he _needed_ it all.

He sat up from where he was slumped, angrily wiping the tears off of his face before awkwardly reaching out to grab the phone he’d thrown to the ground. Disregrading the giant crack that was now on the screen, he immediately opened the internet browser and made the most impulsive decision: booking the first flight to LA the next morning.

\---

It was 5am and Troye was standing in the airport with only a backpack, curly hair a mess and bags under dull blue eyes. He had left as soon as he could, not even giving himself enough time to question his decision to fly across the country in the middle of his tour.

He had three days in between his last show and the next one. He’d be cutting it close but at this point he didn’t even care. He needed to get there; he needed to see Connor.

He knew Dani and the rest of his team were going to be upset with him when they found the note he left explaining everything in his hotel room. But that was of lesser importance to Troye right now. Seeing Connor was his first priority; they needed to figure this out face-to-face, the way they should have done to begin with.

As Troye boarded the plane and took his seat by the window, he rested his head against the cold glass. He gazed out at the lights flashing on the runway, the sky still dark and the rest of the world still peacefully asleep.

He’d been restless all night, his body propelled by the adrenaline from his impulsive decision. As the plane took off, Troye felt the weight of the last day settle over him, allowing himself to realize just how tired he truly was.

Heavy eyelids fell over blue eyes as he drifted off to sleep, memories of times he hoped to get back floating through his head.

 

***

_They were laying in Connor’s bed, the day’s remaining rays of sunlight shining through the blinds on the window as the sun set, casting weird shadows across white sheets that their legs were tangled under._

_They’d each had a busy day, running around LA doing their respective business. It was around 7pm, they’d both gotten home around an hour before, and since then they hadn’t moved from underneath Connor’s sheets, content in each other’s arms. Foreheads gently resting together, green staring into blue._

_When they were like this they talked about anything and everything. From mundane aspects of their day to serious discussions about their lives._

_“Did you ever think your life would be like this?” Connor asked softly. Obviously no one else was home, but the atmosphere of the dimly lit room and the setting sun made hushed voices seem more appropriate._

_Troye let out a small laugh, “No way,” he said, with a small shake of his head, “It’s absolutely insane, I could’ve never imagined something like this.”_

_“I used to think about it a lot,” Connor said, “What my life would be like, where I would end up.”_

_“Do you still?”_

_“Sometimes.”_

_“What do you see?” Troye asked, running his fingers through the wave of brown hair near Connor’s face, brushing it out of those green eyes._  
  
_“I don’t know…A nice house, but nothing too fancy. Something small, but nice. Married. Kids, eventually. Some cats.” Connor laughed._  
  
_“New Zealand,” Troye stated, “And a pool.”_

_“What?” Connor asked, laughter lighting up those green eyes as he gave Troye a curious look._

_“A nice little house in New Zealand. With a swimming pool.” Troye said matter-of-factly, “That’s what I see for us.”_  
  
_There was playful glint to those blue eyes but beneath that there was something more, something serious. Troye wasn’t one to be sappy and cliché but sometimes he entertained the idea, especially since he knew Connor liked it. And deep down Connor was pretty sure Troye liked it too._

_“You think that’s possible?” Connor asked with a small smile. The whole idea was silly in a way. They were both so young, their respective careers taking off and propelling them in an assortment of directions. Any thought of settling down was far off in the future and to think that either of them had even an inkling of an idea of where they would be or who they would be with at that time in their life was impractical._

_“Yes,” Troye answered. There was a hard look in those crystal eyes, a look of raw honesty, and Connor knew he really meant it._

_With that, Connor pressed his lips to the pouty ones beneath him, sinking into their own bliss._

 

***

 

Troye awoke with a start, disorientated by his surroundings for a moment as he pulled himself out of the dream that was also a memory. He had almost forgotten about that conversation. It had seemed so trivial at the time; a discussion of something that would be years away if it even happened at all.

But Troye had really meant what he said and now that he was faced with the reality that it might actually never happen, he knew he made the right decision to get on this plane. He couldn’t let this be the end.

\---  
  
When Troye’s plane landed in LA it was still early due to the time zone change. As he swung his backpack over his shoulder and exited the airplane, Troye briefly entertained the notion that Connor might not even be awake yet. He rolled his eyes at the thought, Connor had probably already had his first cup of coffee for the day. He could be such a morning person sometimes.

As he left the airport and called a cab, Troye tried to suppress the nausea in his stomach that kept threatening to overwhelm him. He had lost some of the fire, some of the determination, he had had the night before. He’d been lucky he slept most of the flight because the long car ride to Connor’s apartment was giving him ample time to question his decision to show up at his doorstep, unexpected, after they’d had a huge fight.

In the midst of this train of thought, the butterflies in his stomach migrating to his throat, Troye found the cab had stopped and he was staring at the outside of Connor’s apartment. He paused for a minute, taking a shaky breath before getting out of the car.

He stood on Connor’s doorstep for what felt like hours but was in actuality only a few minutes. A fleeting thought of turning around and heading back to the airport crossed his mind, but retentions of memories that had brought him to tears only the night before stamped that thought out.

Troye quickly pressed his finger to the doorbell, not giving himself another chance to back out. Minutes felt like hours once again before the door opened to reveal a boy with ruffled hair, a wrinkled t-shirt, and eyebrows knit in confusion.

When green eyes looked up to meet blue, they widened in shock, staring at the boy in front of him like he couldn’t possibly be real, lips parting slightly in surprise.

Troye went to say something but the words caught in his throat, locked away from the reality of the situation he had put himself in.

After another stretch of time that seemed way too long, the silence was finally broken. “Troye?” Connor breathed out.

“Connor,” Troye managed to say, finally breaking past the lump in his throat.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, green eyes wide with bewilderment and Troye was glad to see there didn’t appear to be any anger there.

Before he realized what he was doing, the words came spilling out, “I know this seems impossible sometimes, okay? Especially right now. We’re both busy and I’m never in one place for more than a few days and it sucks and I’m sorry,” he rushed out, nothing but genuine emotion in those blue eyes, “I know sometimes it seems like we are entirely different. And I know it seems like we lead totally separate lives, but I need you in mine, Connor. This—this life that I have,” he paused, “It’s not worth it without you,” he finished quietly.

Connor’s eyes softened at that, he had been trying to put up a front but it was failing. The fear, the unease, the pressure of a long-distance relationship; it had gotten to him.

“I need this, okay? I _love_ you.”

 Being in love sometimes felt impossible, but it was only impossible if you let it be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this was so insanely long but I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it! Also, sometimes I feel weird about putting direct song lyrics in but then I do it anyway, so.
> 
> Please leave comments with your thoughts because I love them more than life.
> 
> Also, this story is up on Wattpad as well (xshadesofpurple) if you prefer.
> 
> Finally, follow me on twitter because I’ve decided to tweet more YA KNOW (xshadesofpurple again)
> 
> THANK U THANK U FOR READING. - xx Angela


	4. EASE

He tossed and turned, throwing sheets off the bed before pulling them back up again. Pillows were flopped from one side to the other, before one was eventually thrown off the bed in anger. Long fingers tangled through messy brown curls as crystal blue eyes flashed open in frustration.

Troye was sprawled on his back; one skinny leg underneath the covers and the other sprawled over top. He groaned, rolling over to his side to smack the pillow next to him in annoyance before sitting up. This was the third night in a row that he hadn't been able to fall asleep, constantly in that weird state between sleeping and dreaming where time feels distorted. He'd wake up with a start, confused and stressed about whatever it was he had been thinking about, unsure whether or not he had been dreaming. But the worst part of it all was that he always managed to wake up feeling even more tired than he had been before his eyes initially closed.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, those blue eyes surrounded by dark circles as they took in the soft lines of moonlight seeping through the window. He glanced at the digital clock on the hotel nightstand, red numbers angrily flashing 3:02AM. _Why the hell was he awake right now?_

Troye sighed, elbows resting on scrawny knees as he dug the palms of his hands into closed eyes, trying to relieve the pressure behind them that he was certain was caused by lack of sleep. It wasn't helping any. He just became painfully more aware of the dull ache in his head, how dry and cracked his lips were, and the slightly nauseated feeling in his stomach. To be honest, he felt like shit.

Snatching his phone from the nightstand, he scrolled through his contacts before clicking a name. Bringing the device to his ear, he listened to the familiar ringtone, letting his eyes slip closed once again, waiting for that comforting voice to answer.

"Hi, Tokkie. How are you?" a familiar female voice rang through the phone.

"Hey mum. I'm alright," Troye answered softly, some of the tension he hadn't even initially realized was there dispersing from his shoulders upon hearing her soothing voice, allowing them to slump slightly.

"How's the tour going? Have you been eating? Taking care of yourself?" she asked, letting off the volley of usual questions that at another time might've been annoying, but right now, when it was 3AM and he was restless, lonely, and feeling absolutely horrid, managed to make him feel better.

"Yeah, yeah. I've been trying," Troye half-lied, as he tried to rack his brain to remember the last time he actually sat down and ate a real meal.

"Troye, honey, isn't it like two, three in the morning for you right now? Why are you calling?" Laurelle asked, her voice a little stern but more concerned than anything.

"Yeah," Troye let out with a short laugh, before adding softly, "I just wanted to hear your voice."

There was a brief silence and Troye could swear he could hear her smile through the phone before she answered, "Well, in that case, you can call me anytime."

Troye managed a smile of his own after that. What he would give to hug her right now, to have one of her home-cooked meals, to head down to the beach to watch the sunset, or even just enjoy it from their front yard. To see the rest of his family: his dad, his brothers, his sister. To be able to sit down to dinner with all of them and just _talk_. It felt like ages since they had gotten the chance to do that and the nostalgia made his heart hurt. He missed them all _so much_. 

He was pulled out of his wistful thoughts by his mother's voice again, much softer this time, more concerned, "Please get some rest, love, don't you have a show tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I do," Troye nodded, internally groaning at the thought of the daylong car ride they had planned in order to get to the next venue.

"Go to bed, hun. You need your rest."

"Okay, mum. Love you."

"Love you too."

Troye sighed, hearing the soft click of the phone as the call ended. For a minute he had regained some semblance of peace and familiarity in his life; a break from all of the turbulence that was his day-to-day routine. But all it took were those three beeps of the phone hanging up to send him back into his dark, lonely hotel room. For him to become painfully aware that he was by himself, miles away from the people he cared about the most.

He stood up, the tension in his shoulders returning, the white t-shirt he had on feeling like it was way too big and hanging off of his skinny frame in a ridiculous way. He shivered, grabbing the comforter from where it was piled up at the end of the bed and draping it around his shoulders as he made his way to the seat on the window sill where his laptop was laying.

He knew he should listen to his mom, knew he should really try to get some sleep. But he was wide awake now and there was no going back from it, forced to be alone with his thoughts for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Troye wedged himself into the corner of the window seat, the side of his head resting against the cold glass with the comforter wrapped fully around his body. He felt like a little kid: curly hair a wild mess and feeling impossibly small buried beneath that blanket. One hand snuck out from underneath the warmth to open up his laptop, figuring he could bide the time until the sun rose by sifting through the internet.

After a few minutes of scrolling through Tumblr, the familiar sound of a Skype call rang throughout the hotel room, shockingly loud compared to the extended silence of the night. An eyebrow raised when he read the name in the box at the corner of the screen: Connor Franta.

_Why is he awake right now?_ Troye mused, until he remembered that he was in Chicago and LA was only two hours behind. So even though it was one in the morning for Connor, it wasn't totally unreasonable that he was online. 

Troye quickly answered, blue eyes softening when familiar green ones appeared on the screen, a tiny smile evident on his lips.

"Go to bed!" a happy voice drifted through the speakers, accompanied with a soft laugh and white teeth spread into the most authentic smile.

Troye couldn't help but let out a laugh of his own, the sound of that voice making any stress he had been feeling dissipate from his body, "I could say the same to you," he replied, pulling the blanket a little tighter around his face.

Connor just continued to smile, cocking his head to the side slightly as he took in the image of the boy on his screen. Tired blue eyes, messy hair, a tiny frame buried beneath a blanket that looked twice his size, "You look so cute right now," he finally said, voice much softer now.

That silly little two-toothed smile that Troye sometimes got when he was especially happy spread across his face and he pulled the blanket over his head in fake embarrassment, "Stoooop," he whined.

That short, bright laugh of Connor's rang throughout the previously dreary hotel room. Troye could never understand how the boy's presence, even through a computer screen, managed to light up a room thousands of miles away. That laugh made Troye's heart glow. It always made him feel at home, even when he was in the furthest place from it. A smile still playing on his lips, Troye pulled the blanket back down to rest around his shoulders once again.

"Really, Tro. How are you awake right now?" Connor asked, a slight twinge of concern in the tone of his voice.

"I can't sleep," Troye sighed, "I've been trying to, but—I don't know. I just think I'm overwhelmed by everything."

"Overwhelmed from touring?" Connor questioned gently. He didn't want to push, but at the same time he wanted to understand what was going through the other boy's head.

"Yeah, sometimes. I guess," Troye shrugged, "I just feel so—" he paused, his brain searching for words to encompass the emotions he had been feeling, " _Lonely_ , sometimes. Like I'm missing out on so much by not being at home or not being with you and...I don't know. Sometimes I'm afraid about this life that I have, that I've made for myself. And it's really scary, because I know I can't go back from it."

Weary blue eyes looked up from where they had been staring at hands wringing together in his lap, meeting green ones on the screen that were much softer than he had expected them to be. His tired brain had expected Connor to think he was crazy or ungrateful or something, because that was how _he_ sometimes felt about himself when he thought this way. But instead, the look on Connor's face showed an understanding and compassion that Troye hadn't anticipated.

The silence was broken mere seconds later, Connor's voice drifting through the speakers, "I can't imagine how hard it must be sometimes," he said, "But this—this is everything that you've ever wanted. Ever since you were a little kid. If five year old Troye could see himself now, he would be so fucking impressed," he laughed. "What you do—the music that you make... the way that it changes people's lives, the way that _you_ change people's lives. It means so much more than you or I could ever imagine."

A small smile played on Troye's lips the whole time Connor spoke, letting the silence hang for a moment after he finished, "Thanks Con," Troye eventually said, "I needed that."

Connor's only response was a simple smile, and with that he changed the course of their conversation to less serious topics, something Troye was incredibly grateful for. He needed something that felt normal right now, needed to just talk about silly things and forget about how stressed out he was. He needed to forget how tired his whole body felt and how he couldn't sleep. Needed to forget about how his head hurt and about how long of a day he was going to have tomorrow. Connor could always manage to do that. He always managed to make him feel calm even when everything else around him felt chaotic.

They talked for a long time but eventually Troye felt his eyelids go heavy and his words started to make a little less sense. Connor just smiled as he watched the boy on his screen finally drift off to sleep. He looked so peaceful wrapped in that huge blanket, parted lips puffing even breaths of sleep onto the cold window he was resting against. Connor watched him for a few seconds longer, taking the time to appreciate what he had in front of him.

"Love you," he said softly, before finally hanging up.

\---

Troye woke the next morning to rays of sunlight shining on his face and a knock on his door.

He groaned, momentarily confused as to why he was asleep by the window until he noticed his laptop sitting in front of him and he remembered the conversation he and Connor had had the night before. He frowned slightly, momentarily feeling bad for falling asleep on him, but he knew Connor didn't care. Swinging his legs onto the floor, he heard the knock on his door again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled, making his way to the door with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.

"Ready to go?" his manager's smiling face asked when he opened the door.

"Give me like, ten minutes," he said with a yawn, which earned him a laugh.

"Okay, fine. Ten minutes and then we have to get on the road," she said, before adding, "I'll grab you a coffee."

"Thank youuu," Troye said with an appreciative smile before she left. He sighed, tossing the blanket onto the bed before heading to the bathroom. He rubbed the side of his neck, cramped from the awkward way he had slept the night before, but he was glad that he had managed to sleep at all.

Standing in front of the mirror, blue eyes took in the image before him. He felt almost unrecognizable; his face looked gaunt, paler than usual with purple rings under his eyes despite the sleep he'd gotten. His lips were cracked and dry, and even the way his curls drooped onto his forehead looked sad.

He bent down, splashing water onto his face from the sink, trying to shake off the headache he could already feel coming on. He quickly went through the rest of his routine, brushing his teeth, changing his clothes, and finally tossing everything into his suitcase. By the time Dani returned with his coffee, which he graciously thanked her for, he was out the door and ready to go.

As he loaded into the van, he checked his phone, smiling when he saw the name above the message that was on the screen.

Opening the text from Connor, he read: "Hope you slept well! Kill it at your show tonight."

"I did, thanks to you." Troye replied with a little winking kiss emoji, before taking his seat in the car and trying to mentally prepare himself for the long drive ahead of him.

Throughout the whole ride to the venue, Troye rested his head on the car window, watching as the trees flew by, feeling the pressure in his head from earlier increase. He closed his eyes, trying to will the headache he knew was coming on away, trying to focus on the soft music that was coming from his headphones.

It didn't work as well as he had hoped and by the time they arrived, his head was pounding and he felt a little nauseous.

Getting out of the car, he was grateful for the cool breeze that gusted across his body as he stretched out his cramped joints. He dug in his bag, looking for something that would numb the ache in his head at least until the show was over. He was glad when he found a bottle of Tylenol, quickly swallowing one down with a swig of water before he was rushed inside to prepare for the show.

\---

When he was on stage, Troye forgot about everything that was weighing on his mind. He let himself float with the music, putting every part of himself into the words he was singing. The headache was forgotten, the lack of sleep unimportant, any longing or nostalgia he was feeling was simply pushed into the words coming from his mouth.

His body felt loose and free, moving along easily to the beat. He couldn't help but smile at the people in the audience. The way they moved, screamed along to the words, reached out to him, to each other. It was incredible. During shows, he was always reminded why he wanted to do this, why he wanted to write and sing and perform. Because not only did it have an impact on him, but it impacted so many other people in so many different ways. And he loved that more than anything.

Once the show had ended, Troye made his way off stage, a large grin spread across his face as he shook out his sweaty curls, an action that made his head spin. He stopped abruptly, suddenly feeling dizzy and short of breath.

"You did amazing, as always, Troye," his manager said with a grin, the other smiling faces of his team nodding in agreement.

"Uh, thanks," Troye said, only half-listening to what they were saying. He was more focused on how his heartbeat was racing and felt somewhat uneven, how his chest felt tight and like he couldn't breathe. His first thought was that it was just the adrenaline from the show, but when the feeling didn't immediately go away he started to get worried.

"Troye, are you okay?" Dani asked when she noticed the look on his face, eyebrow raising in concern as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I think I'm going to vomit," Troye decided suddenly, feeling a sensation in his stomach that was slowly rising through his chest.

He quickly moved, his instant reaction to attempt to make it to the restroom as swiftly as possible. A few steps in, his eyes went blurry, the edges of his vision fading out before eventually everything went black.

\---

The next time his eyes opened it was to harsh lights and not the dimly lit backroom of the venue that he last remembered being in. His head still hurt, but instead of a dull ache there was now a sharp pain in the corner of his forehead.

He was completely disoriented, dazed blue eyes searching the unfamiliar room with confusion before they landed on a pair of concerned green ones. He felt the familiar tickle of fingers on his arm and that action alone managed to slow his heart which had started to panic again.

"Con?" he asked in confusion, his voice sounding rough and dry. His brain felt so muddled. He didn't know where he was, how he got there, why his head was hurting so bad, or how the hell Connor could actually be here right now.

"Hey," Connor said softly, a small smile gracing his lips when he saw Troye was finally awake.

"Where am I? What happened?" he asked, trying to sit up but was stopped by a gentle hand to his chest.

"The hospital," Connor answered, "You fainted right after your show. They think it was from being dehydrated and just— generally exhausted."

"Shit," Troye breathed out quietly, finally taking in the room around him, the memories surrounding the nausea and dizziness he felt after the show becoming more clear.

"Yeah, shit," Connor said with a soft laugh.

Blue eyes shifted back to green ones, still looking confused, "How the hell did you get here so fast?"

"I flew out as soon as I heard. It was only like, a four hour flight," he answered.

"Four hours?! How long was I out for?" he asked, almost looking panicked again.

"Hey, relax," Connor said, in that peaceful voice of his that Troye couldn't help but listen to, "Not much longer than that. Honestly, it wouldn't have been that bad if you hadn't cracked your head when you fell."

Troye subconsciously reached a hand up to the sharp pain on his forehead, where he felt a thin line of stitches.

Connor reached his own hand out to pull Troye's away, lacing their fingers together and letting them rest on the bed, "I did have to spend an hour or so convincing your mom that it wasn't serious enough for her to fly all the way out here though," Connor said lightly, laughter playing in those green eyes.

Troye let out a laugh of his own, thinking about how ridiculous it all was. He'd been so wrapped up in missing everyone and being stressed out about constantly moving from place to place, that he had completely neglected taking care of himself.

"Connor," he said after a moment.

"Hmm?" Connor hummed in response, staring down at their hands on the bed.

"I'm glad you're here." 

"Me too," he smiled, looking back up at him.

In that moment, despite the glaringly bright lights of the hospital room and the busy sounds of machines buzzing, with Connor's fingers intertwined with his own and a soft smile on his face that reached all the way up to those green eyes that were staring happily into his blue ones, Troye felt completely at ease. And for the first time in awhile, Troye was happy with this crazy life that he'd made for himself, because without it, there was no way a skinny kid from Perth could have ever fallen in love with a green-eyed boy from Minnesota. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) Please please leave comments letting me know what you think!
> 
> Classes have started again so updates might be slower, but I love writing these so much that it shouldn't be too bad!
> 
> Follow me on twitter (xshadesofpurple) if you ever wanna chat or get updates on my writing process.
> 
> Also, I'm curious, which song are you guys looking forward to the most?!


	5. THE QUIET

Time is a funny thing. A single period of time can seemingly feel like both an eternity and a blink of an eye. It’s funny how you can feel like you’ve known someone for years, like you’ve been with them forever, hardly remembering what it was like to be without them. But when looking back on it you think, where has all of the time gone? Meeting you felt like yesterday.

Time is never enough. The moments you want to last forever pass too quickly and as more time goes on, those moments become harder to remember. Despite how much you might want to hold on, despite how many times you tell yourself you won’t forget, the memories fade.

So much can change over such a short period of time and even though you were right there for all of it, you still might have missed it. You can be so wrapped up in other things, so focused on what you think is important at the time, that little things, important things, manage to slip by, unseen and overlooked. You were there and it was happening. But you didn’t notice, and time goes on.

\---

Troye woke up with a start, blue eyes flashing open as he sat up quickly on the bed he had just been peacefully asleep in. His eyes darted around the room quickly, his sleep-ridden brain slightly confused as to where he was. It took him a moment to process his surroundings and for him to remember that he was in a hotel room in New York City.

Letting out a soft sigh, Troye rubbed a hand over tired eyes. He couldn’t remember what his dream had been about that caused him to wake up like that, but by the way his heart was racing he could assume it hadn’t been anything good.

He glanced over to where his phone was charging, clicking it on to check the time. 2:13AM. He frowned slightly, swinging his legs off of the bed. Whatever he had been dreaming about had caused a shot of adrenaline to rush through his body and he knew he wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon.

The room felt unusually quiet and the way thin strips of moonlight managed to escape through the blinds and leave a weird pattern on the floor felt oddly disconcerting. Troye’s frown deepened as he got up from the bed to open the blinds on the window, bringing more light into the room, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been settling over him since the moment he’d woken up.

It was that time of night where the thoughts that run through your head are never good. That time of night where you get that weird feeling in your chest and you start to feel anxious over things you have no control over, things that haven’t happened yet. Troye was starting to get that feeling and in an attempt to avoid it, he pushed open the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. He needed some air.

Bare feet stepped out onto slightly chilled concrete and a light gust of wind shook the loose t-shirt he was wearing around his skinny frame. Leaning against the railing, Troye took in the city around him. Endless skyscrapers, long streets still cluttered with cars, lights flashing on signs and buildings. This was New York and it didn’t matter what time of night it was, people were awake and people were still busy. And for some reason, that made Troye feel strangely alone. There was life and energy surrounding him, yet he felt like it was a world just out of his reach.

He ran a hand through his messy curls, sighing as those late night thoughts started to seep into his brain. Clicking on the phone that was still in his hand, he turned around to head back inside, hoping to distract himself with social media for the time being.

As he shut the door behind him and started to scroll through Instagram, he stopped at a picture Connor had posted of himself. A slight frown graced his lips at the way his heart ached as soon as his eyes caught sight of the image on his screen.

Maybe it was because it was the dead of night or maybe it was because Troye hadn’t seen those green eyes in person in what felt like ages. But something about seeing that image of Connor on the beach, looking down in a way that accentuated his strong jaw line but managed to still reveal the slight smile that graced his lips, made a wave of feelings crash over his entire being.

He rested his back against the glass door, still staring down at the picture on the phone in his hand, shoulders slumped. When was the last time he had heard Connor’s voice? When was the last time he had listened to his laugh? Troye couldn’t remember and that realization was crushing him.

He hadn’t even known that Connor was having the photoshoot that the picture on the beach had come from. When had that happened? When had they stopped talking to each other about what was going on in their lives?

He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed how his conversations with Connor had become few and far between. Hadn’t immediately recognized how their silence on the phone might indicate that they had less and less to talk about. Until now. Until it was two-thirty in the fucking morning and he was staring down at an image of a boy who felt more and more like a stranger than someone he actually knew.

The realization of how much Troye missed him—like really, truly missed him in every sense of the phrase—hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart clench. The time and distance had pulled them apart in a strange way, slowly moving them away from each other without offering a real explanation. Troye was noticing now that that feeling of longing had always been there, teasing the back of his mind, but ultimately it had been overpowered by the energy and the intensity of everything else that had been going on in his life. He’d been too busy to notice that Connor was calling less and that they were drifting apart. It made him feel sick.

How was he just noticing that he couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to Connor about anything that wasn’t superficial? And how was he just realizing that as of right now, they hadn’t seen each other for a month, and there weren’t any immediate plans to remedy that?

When had they stopped planning? When had they stopped making time for one another? Troye didn’t know and that sent a chill through his spine.

Panicked blue eyes finally looked up from his phone as he made his way back to the bed, sitting uneasily on the edge of it with thoughts racing through his mind. Why hadn’t he called him? Why hadn’t he heard from him? It had been three days since they’d last spoken and even then it had been brief. It was now just dawning on Troye that all of this was a mess and he’d been so oblivious to it for the longest time.

The silence in the hotel room was deafening and it was starting to drive Troye a little crazy. He needed to hear Connor’s voice. Pressing his finger to Connor’s name on the phone, he brought the device up to his ear, anxiously waiting for that familiar voice to answer on the other end.

It never happened.

Troye couldn’t have anticipated the disappointment he felt upon hearing Connor’s voicemail message, but ultimately knew he should have expected it. When was the last time he tried to call again? He had no idea.

After listening to the long beep that indicated he should leave a message, Troye let out a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in, “Hey Con,” he said softly into the phone, “It’s me. Give me a call when you can.”

And with that he laid back on his bed, attempting to suppress the cascade of negative thoughts that were threatening to overwhelm him as he tried to force himself to fall asleep.

\---

The next few days went on much the same; they were busy and filled with press and interviews and prepping for shows. Troye didn’t have much time to dwell on the realizations he had made that quiet night, but that didn’t stop the anxiety he felt over the continued silence from weighing on him.

He checked his phone frequently and every time he didn’t see Connor’s name on the screen he felt a physical pain in his chest and the tension in his shoulders increased. He tried to call a few more times but the other boy never answered. It was both frustrating and disheartening.

All Troye wanted was to talk to Connor, to hear his voice again, to ask him what had been going on. Because something was obviously going on and he’d been so damn oblivious to all of it that he wanted to scream at himself. How could he have been so unaware? He felt like Connor was intentionally ignoring him, and maybe he was, and maybe Troye deserved that. But the silence between them was eating at his patience. He needed something, _anything_. Even if it was something he didn’t want to hear, he needed to hear it because not hearing it somehow made him feel so much worse.

At some point during the day, Troye heard his phone buzz and when he glanced down to see who the message was from he felt his heart jump to his throat at the name on the screen.

He quickly clicked the message open and read: “Hey, I’m busy. Call you later.”

He immediately felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach, making him feel nauseated. That was it? That was all he got? Six words. Six words that had no meaning or emotion or anything. Six words that could have come from anyone and that was the only thing Connor had said to him in days.

Troye sunk into a seat nearby, feelings similar to those he had experienced that dreadful night of realization washing over him once again. Things were worse than he had thought.

Slim fingers tangled their way through his hair, pushing the curls off of his forehead as he rested his elbows on his knees, staring blankly down at the floor in front of him as unnerving thoughts spun throughout his mind.

This lack of communication was killing him. The way the silence stretched between them made him feel like he was an outsider looking in on a relationship that was breaking apart, a relationship that maybe was already broken. He’d rather fight, rather scream at each other, tear each other apart, say things they didn’t really mean and then apologize for later. He’d rather feel physical pain than deal with the ache in his chest that was spreading through his whole body every time the deafening silence between them extended.

“You ready for the interview?” a voice asked him, pulling him out of the turmoil of thoughts running through his head.

“Yeah,” Troye managed to get out, blue eyes that seemed to have lost their spark looking up as he stood from the chair, “Yeah, I’m ready,” he repeated, with more steel to his voice. He was trying to convince himself more than anything.

\---

Troye was leaving for dinner and just as he was closing the door to his hotel room he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Seeing Connor’s name as the incoming call, he felt the all too familiar way his heart rate instantly intensified and the nauseating way his stomach tied into knots.

“I have to take this,” Troye said quickly, glancing up at his manager with an almost frightened look in his eyes. She simply nodded, her forehead wrinkled with concern as Troye disappeared back into his room.

“Hey,” Troye breathed out as soon as the door shut behind him, the fluttering sensation in his stomach rising to his throat.

“Hey,” Connor replied shortly.

Hearing that voice did not have the result Troye had expected it to, the result that he needed. He thought hearing Connor’s voice would make him feel better, thought it would dampen the anxious feelings that had been biting at him for the last few days. It didn’t. It somehow made him feel worse, somehow made him remember that this person that had once been his everything was slowly becoming a stranger, was maybe already someone he didn’t know. A familiar voice had become unfamiliar.

“What’s going on?” Troye spilled out, figuring he would just get right to it, dispelling the pretense that everything was normal.

The silence stretched longer than it should have, “What do you mean?” Connor finally responded.

“This, us. What’s happening?” Troye asked, his voice sounding strained, “We haven’t talked, and I mean, like, _really talked_ , in forever. It’s not like us, Con.”

There was no response from the boy on the other end.

“Connor,” Troye said quietly, anxiously running his fingers through his hair as he sat down on the edge of his bed, “Are you mad at me or something?”

“I mean—no. No, it’s not that,” Connor said, struggling to find words to explain.

“Then what is it?”

Another stretch of silence.

“I don’t know,” was Connor’s response, voice softer than before, but not in a comforting way. In a way that made Troye’s stomach churn, his heart hurt, and allowed waves of panic to rush through his veins.

“Can we fix it?” Troye dared to ask. He didn’t even know why he asked that. Did he honestly want to know the answer? What if they couldn’t.

More silence. Troye hated it.

“I don’t think so,” Connor finally said.

Troye could have never prepared himself for how those four simple words made him feel. He felt like his heart was actually breaking in half, felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like his stomach was in his throat and that it was about to jump out at any minute.

When did this happen? When did Connor go from being the boy who would call him to tell him about some ridiculous thing that happened to him that day to someone that could barely say two words to him? When did Troye stop being the person he came to when he was upset, or happy, or angry, or just wanted to talk? How did they lose each other?

_It was happening and you were there. But you didn’t notice._

“So…that’s it?” Troye finally said, voice breaking slightly.

“Yeah,” Connor responded quietly, “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Connor…”

“I’m sorry, Troye.” Connor said, and Troye hated how his voice sounded so accepting of the situation. He wanted to yell, scream, fight. Anything. Anything would be better than this calm, quiet conversation that did nothing to embody what he was feeling inside.

But Troye didn’t know that what he had just realized in the last few days was something Connor had realized a long time ago. He could never have known that Connor had been so afraid for so long that things wouldn’t work, that the distance would become too much, that they were both too busy, too different. All of this had made him slowly pull away, slowly turn his fears into a reality. He thought it would be better if he got it out of the way now rather than later. Connor didn’t like things that were unpredictable and that’s exactly what their relationship was; there were too many unknowns. So he pulled away instead of facing an undetermined future because at least then he could pretend like he had some semblance of control over it all. So that he could have someone to blame when it all came crashing down.

So Connor had had time. He had time to come to terms with and get used to the idea of a life without Troye. He had known that this day, this conversation, was coming and he was better prepared for it. But for Troye, he had been so blissfully unaware.

“It’s over,” Connor finally said after a stretch of silence that felt like a lifetime. Troye heard those words like they were a gunshot in an empty room. They echoed in his head, and Troye was certain he would never forget this moment.

Troye hung up the phone and let it drop onto the bed beside him, a dead look in those blue eyes. Later on, he’d regret hanging up him. He’d regret not saying anything else, not fighting for them, not telling Connor how much he meant to him. He’d regret all of the things that were left unsaid.

Later that night he would cry. He’d bury his face in his pillow to stifle the sounds of his grief. Tears would fall onto clean sheets and his eyes would turn red and puffy. Later that night, he would let the sadness consume him. He had lost his best friend, after all.

But for now all he could do was stare down at the floor in front of him. The words ‘it’s over’ ringing in his ears.

\---

Troye felt like he had known Connor his whole life. Looking back, it was hard to remember what his life had been like without him. Even when he thought back to memories before they met, he could only remember the moments, the events that had occurred, but never the feelings. He could remember what happened before Connor but he had no concept of what it felt like to be without him.

Yet, here he was, in a span of time that had felt like forever but also had somehow flown by, now facing a reality he no longer had a perception of. The boy he felt like he had just met but also had known forever was now a stranger. His smile, those vivid green eyes, that bright, loud laugh. They weren’t for him anymore, they were probably for someone else; a thought he actively tried to push away.

And yet, Troye tried to hold on. He desperately clung to the memories. He wanted to remember how Connor looked in the morning when he was just waking up. Never wanted to forget how that smile would reach all the way up to those green eyes when he was really, truly happy about something. He wanted to remember that laugh; how it was short, but loud and full of life.

Occasionally Troye would try to remember and realize that the pictures in his mind weren’t as clear as they used to be. He couldn’t exactly remember how tall Connor was or what it felt like to be wrapped up in his arms. He couldn’t remember the details of his eyes or the lines on his face. And every time he was unsure of his memories, he would internally panic because it felt like he was losing him all over again, desperately trying to push away the voice in his head that whispered, _He’s already lost._

So much had changed and he had missed all of it. He had been so blissfully unaware that Connor had drifted away, that their relationship was breaking and then that it was broken. He had been so focused on other things that he had missed what was right in front of him, missed what was important.

The anger and the resentment eventually faded, although he was never certain whether those emotions were towards himself or the other boy or just the situation in general. For a time everything felt confusing and he would fluctuate between hatred, lashing out at anything and everything, and an unbearable sadness. The kind of sadness that crushes you; consumes your whole body and makes it feel like your heart is the size of your chest and the pressure of it all makes you want to either cave in on yourself or explode.

Every day was the same until it wasn’t. The pain lessened and the tears stopped and he never noticed it until it happened; until he realized that the crushing sadness had been replaced by a dull ache in the back of his chest and faded memories floating through the back of his mind.

Time is a funny thing, really. But time is merely a number, it’s what you do with it that matters most.

 

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED? WHAT?
> 
> This didn’t even really end on much of a cliffhanger, but yes, another song will actually serve as a ~continuation~ of this story. Any guesses?
> 
> But ultimately, my goal is for both of these connected stories to stand alone (i.e. you could read one without reading the other and have them both make sense) but they will take place in the same universe with the same versions of Tro and Con.
> 
> Please let me know what you guys thought of this! It was a little different than other things I’ve written, I think. So please leave me comments!
> 
> Once again, thank you so so much for every nice word any one of you has ever said to me. It motivates me so much and I am constantly astounded that anyone out there actually enjoys things that I write.
> 
> LOVE U BUNCHES 
> 
> xx Angela


	6. DKLA

Thin fingers dug their way through the pockets of tight jeans, trying to find where they had placed the spare key to Connor’s apartment. Troye had just gotten back from the studio where he had had one of the most frustrating writing sessions of his life. Nothing they were coming up with had been working and overall he felt like he had just wasted so much of his time. _How could they have spent eight hours in the studio and literally come up with nothing good? And where the fuck was this damn key?_

Troye irritatedly tugged out his wallet, opening it up to see if he had placed the key inside one of the pockets. “Yes,” he breathed out when he saw a glint of metal sticking out of a fold of leather. He pulled the key from his wallet before unlocking the door and heading inside to the comfort of Connor’s home, which somehow always managed to smell fresh and clean with a slight hint of coffee underneath that never seemed to go away.

Kicking his shoes off at the door, he dragged his feet towards the kitchen. A sigh gusted past his lips and he tugged his fingers through the knotted curls on his head, aimlessly tossing his wallet and the key on the counter when he walked past. He could feel a headache coming on, a dull ache that was starting behind his eyes but would soon become an unbearable pounding in his temples. Just another thing to add to his list of annoyances for the day.

What had been most frustrating about this day though was that it was his last one in LA. Tomorrow he would be on a plane flying to New York for press and interviews and he was just so annoyed that he had spent the whole day in the studio with nothing to show for it. Especially when he could have been doing something, _anything_ , else.

Troye pulled the fridge open, staring blankly inside. He hadn’t eaten anything since the morning and even though he didn’t feel very hungry, he knew he should probably eat. He pulled out leftovers from when he and Connor had gone out to dinner the night before, letting the fridge close behind him and grabbing a plate to warm his meal up.

As he listened to the sound of the microwave, Troye rested his elbows on the counter, placing his forehead in the palms of his hands. The thought of leaving tomorrow was giving him more stress than it probably should have, more stress than he needed it to. It was just aggravating to him that he had been in LA for two weeks almost and had hardly gotten to see Connor, even though they were living in the same damn house. Troye had been spending a lot of hours in the studio and Connor had been having late nights at the office, working on stuff for his brand. Connor was usually gone when Troye woke up in the morning and Troye was usually half-asleep on the couch by the time he came home. It felt like since he had arrived in LA they hadn’t had enough time just to spend with one another, time without worrying about something else that was going on in their lives, and Troye couldn’t help but feel like it was pulling them apart.

 _Why the fuck am I thinking about this right now?_ Troye angrily thought, the beep of the microwave thankfully pulling him out of his spiral of negative thoughts.

He moved to grab his food, setting it on the counter as he picked at it with his fingers, not even bothering to sit down or grab any utensils. He just stood there, letting how bad of a day he had stew in his brain, pulling him further and further into a foul mood.

After about ten minutes of essentially playing with his dinner and scooting it around the plate, Troye decided he wasn’t really hungry. Wiping his hand on his shirt, he moved to the living room, throwing himself on the couch and finally letting his eyes slip closed.

The house was quiet, the prolonged silence making him uncomfortably aware of the growing ache in his head and giving ample opportunity for those negative thoughts to make their way back into his mind. He found himself thinking back to simpler times, when he and Connor weren’t constantly running all over the place and more often found themselves running to each other instead.

Sometimes they’d have spontaneous trips and other times they would happen to spend the whole day in bed. They might find themselves waking up early to make breakfast or staying up into the dead of night to finish whatever show they had started to binge watch earlier that day. There was no pressure, no constant reminder that they both had other things to be doing and even when there was, neither of them cared. What he would give to get those times back.

At some point during Troye’s train of wistful thinking, the sound of the front door opening could be heard as Connor made his way into the apartment. If Troye were able to see him, he would have been able to notice that Connor had had just about as frustrating of a day as he did. His hair was ruffled and his eyebrows were knit in slight irritation, his lips were drawn into a small frown and those bright green eyes were missing their usual spark.

Troye could hear Connor as he moved into the kitchen but he didn’t budge from his spot on the couch, too lazy to open his eyes let alone get up and move. If he had, he would’ve seen how the boy’s frown deepened as he took in the mess of dishes Troye had left in the sink from when he had made breakfast that morning. He would have noticed how Connor’s forehead wrinkled in frustration at the plate of food he had left sitting out on the counter just moments before. If Troye had been there, he would have been able to tell simply by the look on Connor’s face how the last thing he wanted to do after he came home from an annoying day of signing a million copies of the same poster, was to clean up a mess that he hadn’t even made.

And Troye knew that, he really did. He didn’t have to be looking at him to know that Connor wasn’t able to relax until things were put back into their correct place, to know that he couldn’t stand a mess. Troye knew he probably should have thought of that after he had made breakfast this morning but he had been running late to the studio. And yeah, he should have thought of it again after he’d warmed up his dinner a few minutes before but he’d just been so _tired_ and _annoyed_ with his day that at the time he didn’t really care.

“You know, you could do your own dishes,” Connor’s irritated voice floated from the kitchen, causing a slight frown to appear on Troye’s lips.

“I will, I just didn’t feel like it right when I got home,” he responded, an agitated tone to his voice as well. The last thing he needed on this annoying day was Connor nagging at him about something as stupid as doing the dishes, and the way Connor was deliberately clanging plates and slamming drawers as he cleaned up the mess only managed to further his annoyance.

“Okay, cool,” Connor said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “But I don’t like dishes sitting around and you know that, so.”

Troye just rolled his eyes underneath still-closed lids, “Yeah, and _you_ know I like, never do my dishes right away, so. What’s your point?”

Troye was vaguely aware that he was being an asshole, but his head had started pounding and the weight of the day had finally settled over him, making every limb in his body feel heavier than it should’ve been. Troye’s whole day had been unproductive and out of his control, so for whatever reason he couldn’t just nod and admit to Connor that he was right. He felt like he needed to get a handle on something and at the moment, this situation was all that he had.

“The point is, it’s _my_ house.”

Blue eyes snapped open at that statement. Something about the way Connor had said that rubbed him the wrong way. I mean, obviously he was right, it _was_ his house but it still irked him, the way Connor had said that. The only reason Troye had ever felt at home in LA was because of Connor and the fact that he always had a bed to sleep in, a drawer already filled with his clothes, and a toothbrush sitting by the sink.

“Okay, then why do you even bother letting me stay here?” Troye snapped back, finally sitting up from where he had been lying on the couch.

Connor rounded the corner into the living room when he heard that question, green eyes flaring at where Troye was now sitting, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you even bother asking me to stay here if you’re just going to bitch at me about it?” Troye said, his voice quavering a little with anger as he stood up, glaring at Connor who was now much closer to him than before. _Why was he getting so mad about this?_

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Connor said, looking incredulous, “ _Why do I ask you to stay here?_ ” he practically spat out, taking another step closer to him, “Maybe because I hardly ever get to see you? Maybe because you’re constantly busy—,”

Troye cut him off there, “Me?! You’re busy all of the time too. I wake up to an empty bed every damn morning.”

“Sorry I have to go to _work_ ,” Connor ground out, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Well, _I’m_ sorry I’m obviously such a burden! _”_ Troye responded, feeling the anger rise through his chest.

Connor continued to glare up at him before taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and explain, but with minimal success, “I ask you to stay here because otherwise I’d never fucking see you and—.” He paused, looking totally flustered and at a loss for words.

Connor was maybe an inch away from him at this point. Sometime during that argument they had both angrily moved towards one another and now fiery green eyes were flaming up at him. This was one of those times where Troye really appreciated their height difference, because he could fully take in the angry boy glowering up at him. His hair look ruffled—probably because he always furiously ran his hands through it whenever he was frustrated—and his cheeks were lightly flushed, his jaw was set, and his lips were spread into a thin line and _damn, he looked so hot right now._

That thought was even more frustrating to Troye than this whole argument had been to begin with. So of course what he did next was the only logical thing he could think of, which was to place his hand on the back of Connor’s neck and pull those thin lips to his own.

He could feel Connor tense slightly, taken aback by the fact that Troye had gone from yelling at him to kissing him in a matter of seconds. That tension only lasted for a moment though before Connor moved his hands to the sides of Troye’s face, thumbs resting just underneath his ears, holding him in place.

Troye moved his other hand to grip Connor’s hip as he felt the boy respond, letting his tongue slide easily into the mouth beneath his own. He was still annoyed at himself and at the situation in general, but damn, why did Connor have to look so good when he was angry?

Their kiss was hard and heated, all of the energy and hostility from their argument being pushed into it. Troye felt a hand on his chest and he suddenly found his back pushed up against the wall, Connor’s other hand pressed against the wall next to his head.

He let out a slight groan, feeling lips pull away from his mouth to press rough kisses along his jaw before they attached themselves to his neck. He inadvertently tilted his head to the side, letting Connor’s lips have more access to the sensitive skin there, eyes sliding shut.

Cold hands slipped under his shirt to ghost across heated skin, causing a shiver to shoot up his spine. His shirt was slowly being pushed up his body and he moved his hands over his head to let Connor pull it all the way off before tossing it unceremoniously onto the couch next to them.

The kisses to his neck had stopped in order to get his shirt off, causing Troye to turn his head back to look at Connor, eyes flashing back open. Connor’s hands were flat against his chest, green eyes taking in the image in front of him as he ran both hands down, letting fingers graze lightly over his nipples and causeing Troye to let out a slight gasp, sending another shiver through his body.

Green eyes darted up to meet blue ones and Troye could still see the remnants of anger there, but what was more important was how he noticed that the fire in those eyes was slowly beginning to cloud over with what looked to be lust instead. Lips found his again, Connor’s tongue sliding against his own as Troye placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly, trying to hold himself steady.

This whole situation was probably turning him on more than it should have and Troye irritably noticed how the tightness in his jeans was becoming somewhat unbearable. Frustrated at the lack of skin-to-skin contact, Troye quickly moved his hands to the bottom of Connor’s shirt, pulling it hastily over his head. Their lips parted for a moment as the shirt was removed but Troye wasted no time in slipping his arm around Connor’s waist once it was off to pull his torso up against his own, crashing their lips together once again.

Troye let out a small moan at the feeling of Connor’s chest flush against his own and of fingers running down his spine, pulling his lips away to move to the other boy’s neck, letting teeth nip at the skin before pressing his lips over every spot he made, his tongue soothing each mark.

Troye smirked against Connor’s skin as he heard the other boy let out a quiet moan, the first sound he’d made this whole time; his neck had always been one of his weak spots. But that smirk was quickly replaced as Troye’s lips parted in a gasp as Connor pressed a leg in between his own, putting pressure right on the place that needed it the most. It also didn’t help that Troye could feel just how hard Connor was as well, his length pressing through thin joggers onto Troye’s thigh.

Connor’s hands quickly made their way to the top of Troye’s jeans, fingers fiddling with the button in an attempt to hastily get them off. The way his lips were aggressively attacking his neck again, surely leaving marks that would be visible the next morning, let Troye know just how impatient Connor was getting.

Finally getting the button undone, Connor hooked his thumbs into the top of Troye’s jeans and pushed them down, taking his underwear with them until the material caught around his knees. Troye took in a sharp breath as the cool air of the room hit the most sensitive part of his body, which was now standing at full attention against his stomach. But what took him by even more surprise was how Connor suddenly dropped to his knees and Troye felt a warm mouth around the head of his cock, hands sliding their way down his stomach.

“Fuck,” Troye let out, his head falling back against the wall behind him with a soft thump.

Connor let out a chuckle at his reaction, sending vibrations up Troye’s length that had him biting at his bottom lip and letting out another groan of pleasure, eyes rolling closed. He felt the swirl of Connor’s tongue along the head of his cock, the sensation of hands moving up the inner parts of his thighs to the sensitive skin near his hips.

Troye tangled his hand through Connor’s hair, eyes opening to look down as the boy below him moved to take more of him into his mouth, one hand moving from his hip to give his balls a light squeeze, which caused another moan to fall from Troye’s lips.

Connor’s other hand was still firmly gripping Troye’s hip, keeping him from thrusting back into his mouth as he began to pick up a rhythm, periodically letting his hand squeeze the base of his cock or move back to where he had been playing with his balls. Occasionally Connor would move his head all the way up, letting his tongue swirl around the tip in an almost teasing manner before moving back down quickly, flattening his tongue out along his length as he went, causing Troye to let out a loud moan every time. They knew each other’s bodies too well, always doing what was needed in order to get the right reaction.

Biting his bottom lip, Troye continued to look down at the boy in front of him, watching as his head bobbed up and down in a rhythm guided by the hand he had placed on the back of his head, which was now fiercely holding onto his hair. The sight alone almost sent Troye over the edge as he sensed that familiar tightening building in the pit of his stomach.

Before he let that happen though, he tugged Connor’s head back, groaning when the boy released him from his mouth and looked up at him with a quizzical expression on his face. Troye didn’t even bother saying anything, he just placed his arms underneath Connor’s, hauling him back to his feet. There was no way he was going to let Connor get him off without having any of the fun himself.

Blue eyes took in the boy before him: thin lips somewhat swollen, face flushed, chest heaving slightly as he took in shallow breaths. He loved how much Connor managed to turn himself on just by doing things to him, without even touching himself, as evidenced by how his own erection was now straining against the front of his joggers.

Troye smirked at that, pulling Connor’s lips to his own again in a sloppy kiss filled with tongue and teeth, pushing his pants and boxers off of him at the same time. He placed a gentle hand on the other boy’s chest, pushing him towards the bedroom. Connor took the hint as they moved haphazardly in that direction, awkwardly stepping out of pants that were pooled around their ankles and occasionally knocking into things as they went, but refusing to separate their lips the whole time. As they went Troye couldn’t resist reaching out and closing a hand around Connor’s shaft, giving it a light squeeze and causing him to let out a long moan into Troye’s mouth.

When they finally reached the bedroom and Connor’s knees hit the edge of the bed, Troye pushed him down onto it. He took a moment to take in the sight before him. Connor’s chest was flushed and his breathing was heavy as he leaned up on one elbow to look down at Troye, waiting for him to do something, _anything_. His hair was a mess from where Troye had gripped onto it minutes before and his lips were swollen from messy kisses. _Damn, he really did always look good_ , Troye thought, eyes raking all over his figure until they caught green ones that looked ten shades darker than normal, pupils blown out with desire.

That look in Connor’s eyes sent a jolt through Troye’s body and he quickly crawled over him to press heated kisses to every inch of him that he could find. He started at his neck, sucking another mark onto it before moving down his body, a flat hand trailing along beside his lips as he went.

He felt Connor’s hand on the back of his head, gently pushing him in the direction he was inevitably headed. Troye smirked at his impatience, moving down so that his hands were gripping onto Connor’s thighs and he was pressing open-mouthed kisses to every area except where the attention was needed most.

Connor let out what sounded like a mix between a whine and a frustrated sigh, and a second later Troye moved to run his tongue all the way up from the base of his cock to the tip, before letting his lips wrap around the head. Connor let out a loud moan at that, his elbow giving way and his head falling back onto the bed, eyes sliding shut.

Troye smirked to himself, giving Connor’s thighs a squeeze as he moved his head down his length, taking in as much of him as he could before he moved back up again, setting a steady pace for himself. The sounds Connor made always drove him insane and Troye occasionally moved a hand down to stroke himself a few times before bringing it back up to touch Connor again.

He felt a hand tangled in his hair and he increased his rhythm, occasionally hollowing out his cheeks and letting his tongue slide over the slit of his cock, an action that always succeeded in earning him another loud moan.

“Fuck, Troye,” Connor managed to get out, his voice breathy and needy sounding. Blue eyes looked up from under hooded lids at the sound of his name, catching green ones that were staring back down at him, watching his every move. That look, that fire in those eyes as they stared directly back into his own, turned Troye on to no end and he refused to look away as he moved his head languidly up and down a few more times, before picking up the pace once again.

Connor bit his lip, watching that curly head of hair and those lips as they moved over his cock. The feeling, the look in those icy blue eyes, the heat of the room, _everything_. It was all too much for Connor and he suddenly got that familiar tightening in the pit of his stomach and he knew he was close.

“Fuck, I’m—” was all Connor managed to get out before Troye felt a rush of warmth into his mouth. He held his head still for a moment, taking in all Connor had to offer before bobbing his head one last time and pulling off of him.

He placed slow, lazy kisses all the way up Connor’s stomach until their lips met again, letting his tongue swirl in his mouth, allowing the other boy to taste himself on his lips.

Connor was spent beneath him, chest heaving with breaths from the energy his orgasm had cost him. Troye smirked into their kiss, the satisfaction of making Connor fall apart under his attention never failing to amaze him no matter how many times it happened; every time it felt new and every time it was just as good.

Their kiss was slowing down as Connor rode out his high. Troye pulled his lips away to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting his head fall into the crook of Connor’s neck, his breath ragged and heavy. He reached his hand down to finish himself off, knowing it wouldn’t take much; he was already so close.

He managed to get one pump in before Connor’s hand was swatting him away, warm fingers wrapping around his aching length. He moaned into Connor’s neck as he felt a thumb run over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-come that had been collecting there and using it to ease his hand up and down.

Troye had been so hard just from watching Connor earlier, from that look on his face when he came into his mouth, that it only took a few more easy strokes before he spent himself in between their bodies, collapsing on top of the boy beneath him.

Connor wrapped an arm around his waist, giving him a light squeeze and tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of his forehead. In that moment, wrapped up in Connor’s arms, the heat of the room permeating through his skin, Troye felt so completely comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that he almost forgot about the fight that they had before this had all started, the memory moving to the back of his mind where it would come to bother him at a later date.

Eventually, Troye moved to clean themselves up. He felt slow and sluggish and he was just starting to realize how tired he truly was. Once he was finished, he crawled into bed, where Connor had already managed to bury himself beneath the covers. Neither one of them bothered to get dressed and Troye sidled his body up against Connor’s back, feeling his even breaths against his chest, letting him know that the other boy had already fallen asleep. A moment later, Troye lost himself to sleep as well.

\--

The next morning Troye woke up to the sounds of birds chirping outside of Connor’s bedroom window, groggy blue eyes slowly opening to take in the thin rays of sunlight shining through the blinds. Rolling onto his back, he rubbed a hand over tired eyes, trying to wipe away any remnants of sleep. He glanced over next to him to take in the boy that was tangled up in the covers on the other side of the bed, his strong back facing towards him as shadows and sunlight flickered across his skin.

At some point during the night, he and Connor had separated from one another, each rolling over to their respective sides of the bed. It was something that happened more and more often now. They’d either fall asleep without each other, wake up in the morning to the other one already gone, or find that they’d rolled away to opposite sides of the bed at some point during the night.

The realization made Troye kind of sad, a small frown gracing his lips. He remembered how he used to wake up to Connor’s lips on him, or to his hand running down his spine or through his hair. They’d either be tangled in each other’s arms or just comfortably letting their shoulders touch, hands resting against one another, fingers loosely intertwined. No matter what, there had always been some sort of contact. Had they really lost all of that? Had they really become a couple that fights about stupid shit and then just fucks, rolling away from each other when it was all said and done?

Troye shook those thoughts from his head. _No, that was not them._

He sat up in bed, running fingers through messy curls that were drooping over his forehead as he glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to find that it was seven in the morning, way earlier than he was used to.

Knowing there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep with the thoughts and worries that had started to buzz through his mind, he quietly slipped out of bed. Padding his way towards the drawer that held all of his clothes, he grabbed a pair of boxers and sweats, quickly pulling them on, but when he reached out to grab a shirt, he hesitated. A second later, he closed the drawer and grabbed one of Connor’s shirts instead, taking comfort in how there was something about the material that made it seem distinctly different than his own, made it feel more like home.

For as long as he could remember wearing Connor’s clothes made him feel closer to the other boy, a constant reminder of what they had with one another. When they first started dating, Troye always used to sneak shirts into his suitcase whenever he was headed back to Australia or anywhere else for that matter. It was his way of bringing Connor along with him, to remind him that he always had somewhere, or rather someone, that he could come back to. For some reason, right now, Troye felt like he really needed that reminder—because even though the other boy was mere feet away from him on the opposite side of the room, Troye was just now realizing how much he really _missed him._

His heart felt heavy all of a sudden and he allowed himself to take a shaky breath before silently making his way out of the room. He needed some air.

Slipping on his shoes, he quietly made his way out the front door, blue eyes squinting as the sunlight shone down onto the sidewalk in front of him. He started blindly heading in one direction without any sort of plan as to where he was going. All he knew was that he needed some time to think.

He was leaving LA today and wouldn’t be back for almost a month and that thought terrified him, especially with how this last visit went. That fight he and Connor had the night before wasn’t the first. Lately it seemed like that was all they had being doing with each other, arguing about little things and letting the stress of their work life seep into their relationship. Troye had never wanted that. He had never wanted what he had with Connor to feel like like it was anything less than what it was, but what was it exactly? Troye wasn’t sure he could tell you anymore.

He let out a frustrated sigh, fingers itching for a cigarette. During times like this Troye regretted the few times he had ever tried smoking. Whenever he was really stressed out it was the first thing that came to mind in order to take the edge off and he absolutely hated it. But right now the stress of leaving again, of feeling like his relationship with Connor was on a rocky edge he was scared they couldn’t come back from, was so much more than he could handle.

He settled for chewing at his nails instead, wondering if all of this was really worth it. Was it worth keeping someone in his life if it seemed like they didn’t have enough time for one another? Was that fair? Connor deserved better than that, they both did.

He was scared. Scared that their fights would go from being about dishes to bigger things, things they couldn’t actually change. Scared that rolling away in their sleep was actually because they were tired of each other instead of the more likely reason that they’d just fallen into a comfortable routine. He was scared that they were only ever really close to one another during sex, but other than that they had nothing to say. Sometimes, he was scared it was already too late, but he knew he didn’t want it to be.

Troye sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, folding his hands on his knees and resting his chin on top of them. Ultimately, the choice was theirs. It was up to them whether or not they decided to make this relationship work, whether they decided to keep letting their careers get in the way of each other or to go back to how things had been before.

Troye had a choice whether or not to keep love in his life and he knew what he wanted, which was a realization that only served to scare him even more.

\--

Troye came home around a half hour later, slipping his shoes off by the door. He was surprised to catch the faint smell of coffee brewing but he knew he shouldn’t have been. They always managed to wake up soon after the other one had left the bed.

He made his way to the kitchen, taking notice of the boy sitting at the table, hands wrapped around the steaming mug in front of him. There was a tired, worried expression on his face as he stared down at the coffee before him. His lips were set into a sharper line than usual, forehead crinkled slightly between his eyes. Troye could tell he was thinking about something, especially since the coffee in front of him looked relatively untouched.

Troye set his keys down on the counter, the sound causing green eyes to flash up and meet blue ones, the other boy quickly standing up from his spot at the table.

Neither of them said anything for a long time, eyes searching each other for answers to questions they both had.

“I was scared you’d left already,” Connor eventually said, his voice ten times softer than the last time they’d spoken. He tried to hide the almost sad look that was evident in his eyes by looking down at the floor, away from Troye, but it was useless. There was brief pause before Connor added, “I mean, I know that was a stupid thought. All of your stuff is still here but—”

“Hey,” Troye cut him off, voice soft as well as he moved thin arms to wrap around the older boy’s waist. It was an action Connor instinctually returned as Troye pulled him into a tight hug, letting his lips rest against soft hair as he whispered,

“I’ll miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer than the others, but I hope it was worth it! I’ve somehow managed to start working on multiple fics at once and school is picking up, so Y’KNOW.
> 
> Shouts to Hannah (TroyesCoolShit) for reading over and editing the smut in this chapter. Without her validating me and helping me, it probably never would have been included. She’s a real peach.
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts in the comments. I LOOOOVE reading them. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you for reading! Until next time! ;) –xx Angela


	7. TALK ME DOWN

_Part 2 of THE QUIET._

 

Missing someone doesn’t necessarily get any easier—it’s just a feeling that has the capacity to take on many different forms. Missing someone can be a small smile decorating a set of lips at the slightest hint from the past. It can be a sharp pain to the chest at a sudden memory—a pain that might last only for a second before it’s swept from the mind—or it can be a dull ache that stretches on in the heart for years. Missing someone somehow manages to be simultaneously both love and hate; equal parts comfort and pain.

Longing is a feeling that can be both past and present. There will be times when the pain from old memories feels new again. Days when everything is a vivid reminder, a striking contrast to the ease that had been present only the day before. There will be days when the wounds feel fresh, the pain seems new, and that haunting conversation echoes as if it had just been said—a constant reminder that you’ll never forget, not fully anyway.

However, missing someone can also simply be the emptiness felt within one particular moment—merely the result of lacking something that’s supposed to be there, but now isn’t. It can be that feeling of loss when there’s an accomplishment but no longer someone to share it with. Or it can be the luxury of temporarily forgetting that someone is gone, but then that sudden, shocking reminder that they really aren’t there anymore.

Missing someone can be either a happy sentiment or a sad one and the important thing to note is that it’s not exclusive to either emotion. The only constant through it all is that something, or rather someone, is now gone.

\---

Six months had gone by. Six months since that quiet conversation on the phone that had left Troye feeling a little emptier inside, a little less like himself. It had been half a year since he had last heard Connor’s voice during that conversation that had been the end of everything between them. Connor’s last words— _it’s over_ —still managed to haunt him, floating into his mind whenever he least expected them to and whenever they were most unwelcome.

Yet, Troye had somehow managed to get through it all. He had managed to have those days where things felt back to normal even when he was still having those days where he felt like everything had gone to shit. He had somehow learned to live with them both; the good days and the bad ones.

He found himself writing more and more often, trying to get out on paper the swirl of emotions that constantly drifted through his head. It felt like a release almost, to get those feelings out of his mind and into a lyric, crystallizing the emotion on paper and letting it go on to become something else for someone else.

For Troye, life had somehow managed to go on as usual, just with a little more sadness and heartache than he was used to, but it went on nonetheless.

He was currently in the midst of wrapping up his tour. After consecutive months of travelling from city to city with only one decent break in between, the summer was finally drawing close and the tour was coming to an end. Troye didn’t know whether he felt sad or relieved about the fact that it was almost over, but he had decided to worry about it more when the time actually came. Avoiding his feelings was something he had found himself doing a lot of lately.

In this particular moment, Troye found himself sitting in the airport, waiting to board a plane that would take him to LA for one of his final shows. He felt needlessly anxious, his foot jiggling from where his ankle was resting on his knee as his fingers mindlessly toyed with the strings surrounding the holes in his jeans.

He was nervous and he knew why, though he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Troye knew the nerves were stemming from the fact that this would be his first time back in LA since he and Connor had had that dreadful conversation on the phone; a conversation that felt like it was a lifetime ago. This would be the first time in a long time that he’d be going back to LA and staying in a hotel. The first time in as long as he could remember that he didn’t have that giddy, excited feeling bubbling in his chest. It was the first time in awhile that Troye wouldn’t be greeted with a set of green eyes, a bright smile and a happy laugh when he landed.

A frustrated gust of air puffed past his lips as he tangled his other hand in his hair, resting his elbow on his thigh as he continued to play with the ripped material on his knee.

Troye had been trying for awhile now to avoid how going back to LA made him feel, but his effort to circumvent those feelings wasn’t working out as well as he had hoped. He knew he should have been excited about this trip—this show was going to be his biggest one yet—but he couldn’t seem to prevent the wave of sadness that rushed over him every time he thought of arriving in a place that held so many of his memories.

Going back to LA used to make Troye feel like he was coming home because that was where Connor was, and for the longest time Connor had been home. Every time he was forced to realize how much LA didn’t feel like home anymore was another time he was forced to recognize that he and Connor were really over. Home was supposed to be a place that was comforting, a place that settled his nerves and allowed him to fully relax. Whenever Troye realized that LA now made him feel restless and detached, he was forced to face the reality that was the conclusion of a huge part of his life.

The end of his relationship was something Troye actively tried to avoid thinking about. He had acknowledged it as something that had happened but he purposefully tried not to dwell on it. Sometimes he was able to go about his day in an exceedingly normal fashion and he managed to forget about everything he had lost. He would forget the staggering silence that had went on for months; overlook the extended quiet that was still stretching between them now, like an empty space where words that were left unsaid aimlessly drifted. He would somehow manage to forget that Connor wasn’t waiting to talk to him on the phone after his show and that he wasn’t going to be able to see that smiling face on his computer screen when neither of them could manage to sleep at night. He would go about his day with these quiet comforts settled serenely in the back of his mind because that is where they had always been—this was what had been normal to him for the longest time.

Troye knew he could’ve done more to prevent this half-delusional life he was leading but he was afraid he couldn’t handle it if he faced reality head-on. He couldn’t afford to break down again, he couldn’t handle the way his heart ached and his chest felt heavy when he took the time to think about everything that happened. He knew he couldn’t acknowledge that feeling when he was going about his day or he would never get anything done. So, the feeling managed to sit there, a dull ache in the back of his chest and the occasional memory ghosting through his mind.

Despite all of his efforts, Troye would still sometimes find himself awake at three in the morning, drowning in memories that would’ve made him smile if he didn’t miss the green-eyed boy that was in all of them so damn much. Tears would silently stream down his face, or empty eyes would stare blankly up at the ceiling, and he would wonder how he could have ever let any of this happen. He would rack his brain, trying to find the exact point in time where he had went wrong and lost the one person he had needed the most. He would dwell on the details and the uncertainties, ask himself the what-ifs and question every single thing he might’ve done only to come to the crashing realization time and time again that it didn’t matter anymore because Connor was _gone_.

The sound of the airline attendant announcing that it was time to board the plane managed to pull Troye from the dark thoughts he had been sinking into. He glanced up, taking in his surroundings as his mind started to focus on what was happening around him, forcefully pushing away the memories that always managed to creep up whenever they had the chance.

He stood up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as his boarding section was called. A slight frown graced his lips at the last remnants of memories in his mind as he made his way down the bridge to the plane but he shook them off, making the conscious decision to not think about it anymore—he would focus on the music instead.

\---

Troye was standing backstage, fiddling with a water bottle in his hand as he waited to go on. He was more nervous about this show than he had been for any of the others, mainly because all of his friends from LA had come to see him but also because it was his largest show yet. Not to mention his nerves from earlier had never completely settled either, only adding to the shaky feeling in his chest.

Ever since his plane had landed and he had arrived in LA there had been a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach—something about being here just didn’t feel _right_.

He knew why. From the moment he got in a cab and headed to a hotel room by himself, he knew _why_ nothing felt right, he just hated admitting it.

Part of him hoped he would see Connor while he was in town and another part of him recoiled at the thought. He had no idea what he would even do or say if he came face to face with the green-eyed boy who had managed to both give and take away so much from his life. Maybe he would say all of the things he should have said before he hung up on him, maybe he would say he was sorry for how things had been in the end. Or maybe he would just stare at him like he wasn’t even real, his chest feeling tight and heavy, constricting his heart and forcing the air from his lungs.

“You go on in five, you ready?” the voice of his manager drifted through his ears, pulling him out of the thoughts he hadn’t even realized he’d been so focused on.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so,” he answered with a curt nod, clenching his jaw as he tried to focus on the present instead of dwelling on the past.

The five minutes went by quickly and when the time came, Troye stepped out onto the stage to the sound of a roaring crowd and the sight of flashing lights and cameras. The energy he felt from being on stage was like no other—it made him feel like a different person, like he was an outsider looking in on an image of himself—it never felt real. No matter how many times he stepped out onto that stage it always felt like a dream. Troye could never fully grasp that this was actually his life.

As the beat to the first song started playing, any nerves Troye had been feeling quickly faded. He instantly became comfortable when the sounds of his songs began, when he felt the beat of the bass in his chest and the colored lights started to shroud his frame. He finally started to feel a little more at home.

He poured his heart and soul into his music, letting every emotion he had neglected to feel find its way into the lyrics falling from his lips. These were the rare moments that he felt completely free. Free from the worry, free of the pain, free from the thoughts and memories that had been haunting him for what felt like the longest time. He could finally be at peace, at least until the show was over.

At some point during the performance, as he was staring out at the audience, taking in the crowd of sweaty, smiling people screaming the words to his songs back at him, Troye was convinced he spotted a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd. In that moment, he could’ve sworn he spotted a boy with fluffy hair, thin lips, and strong shoulders—a boy that six months ago he would have been able to recognize anywhere. Troye felt his chest tighten, his heart rate increasing palpably, but the moment had been so fast and his eyes had scanned over that part of the crowd so quickly that when he looked back again, the image was gone, and Troye was sure it had all been a part of his imagination.

When he stepped off-stage after the encore was over, he had almost forgotten that shaky moment on stage where he thought he had spotted the boy from his past. As the memory attempted to resurface, he was able to quickly shake it off because a moment later a loud, blonde-haired boy with glasses was busting backstage with a group of their friends, yelling about how amazing the show had been.

It was easy to forget when he had distractions.

\---

The next morning Troye woke up to his phone buzzing on the table beside his bed. He let out a tired groan, running a hand over sleepy eyes before he reached blindly for the device, knocking a few things off of the nightstand before he managed to grab it. Groggy eyes opened to a text from Tyler, informing him that he was having a party at his place that night and that it was for Troye and he had better be there. Troye laughed at that as he typed his response, happily agreeing—it _would_ be good to spend some time with his friends after all.

Several hours later, Troye found himself standing outside of Tyler’s familiar apartment, knocking on the front door. He could hear music and voices permeating through the walls, causing a smile to spread across his face. It had felt like ages since he had last been at Tyler’s apartment, and even longer since he had seen all of his friends in one place. The thought managed to make him both sad and happy—he had missed so much, but he was here now.

The blonde-haired boy himself was the one who answered the door, letting out his customary loud greeting before dragging a laughing Troye inside and quickly finding a beer to place in his hand. The room was filled with people he hadn’t even realized he’d missed so much until now, and they had all been there for him at his show the night before. In that moment, Troye felt incredibly grateful, and LA started to feel a little more like home once again.

Yet the happy feeling in his chest didn’t last for long as his eyes scanned the room and inevitably landed on a familiar figure with a fluffy head of hair and a bright smile. He stopped in his tracks when he saw him, his conversation with Tyler coming to an abrupt halt, ears drowning out what the other boy had been saying.

“Well, do you?” Tyler asked, unaware that Troye was now completely oblivious to whatever he was talking about, “Hey, Troye? Hellooo? What’re you—” he asked, before following Troye’s line of sight, his own gaze landing on Connor, “Oh,” he let out.

“What’s he doing here?” Troye managed to ask, tearing his gaze from the other boy to meet Tyler’s eyes again.

Tyler’s forehead wrinkled, a look of confusion and slight concern hidden behind the glasses on his face, “He said it wasn’t a big deal and you guys were cool….” Tyler said nonchalantly, before he hesitated, quirking an eyebrow up at Troye as he asked, “Are you not?”

“He said that?” Troye asked quietly, more to himself than anything. He was trying to wrap his brain around how in the world Connor could have ever come to that conclusion.

 _They were cool?_ They hadn’t even talked since Troye had hung up on him after Connor had ended everything. Why the hell would he say they were _cool?_ Had it really all been so meaningless to him? Troye closed his eyes briefly, shaking those thoughts from his head.

Blue eyes flashed back open to meet Tyler’s, more assurance in them than there had been before, “I mean, yeah. I guess everything’s cool. I’m just surprised, is all.” he managed to get out, attempting to keep his voice calm, to sound confident in what he was saying in order to convince Tyler, as well as himself, that everything was fine. _If Connor didn’t care about this, then neither would he._

Although, after that conversation Troye couldn’t help the shaky feeling that was slowly making its way back into his chest. _Everything’s cool_ was the exact opposite of what he had actually been feeling. _Everything had been a wreck_.

Troye tried to ignore it, tried to push the thoughts away and suppress the weird feeling in his stomach by trying to focus on the other people around him, actively avoiding Connor the whole time. He was probably drinking more than he should have been, but the tingly feeling as the alcohol settled into his veins helped to calm his nerves—helped him feel a little less anxious about the fact that the boy who broke his heart was mere feet away from him on the other side of the room.

As the alcohol began to take effect, his brain became a little fuzzier and he became a little more detached from the conversation he was in. Nursing the red cup in his hand, he pretended to be listening to what Tyler was saying to the group around him but his thoughts had drifted to the other side of the apartment where that loud, familiar laugh rang clearly through the crowded room.

There was a part of Troye that wanted to go over to him—wanted to confront him and say everything that had been on his mind. He wanted to apologize, to beg for him back, to do whatever it took just to be able to be close to him again, to get the chance to fall asleep in his arms. But there was another part of him that wanted to scream at the older boy, call him careless and stupid and ask him why he had wasted so much of his time. There was a part of him that wanted to tell him to stay out of his life and never come back, but there was also a part that wanted to tell him to stay and never leave again.

He frowned, forcefully tearing his gaze away from the happy smile on Connor’s face as he chatted with the people surrounding him.

“I’m getting another drink,” Troye announced, standing up from his spot on the couch as he finished what was left in the cup in his hand. Tyler waved him off as he continued to tell a story and Troye made his way into the kitchen, relatively unnoticed.

He tossed his cup carelessly into the trash, pulling a beer from the fridge as he acknowledged the buzzed feeling coursing through his body. He figured it was time to switch to something a little less strong if he wanted to avoid feeling like absolute shit the next morning.

His fingers fumbled with the bottle opener, his hands not working how he wanted them to thanks to the alcohol in his system. He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even hear the sound of someone else entering the kitchen, and he was startled to hear Connor’s voice drift softly from behind him, “You sounded amazing last night.”

The shock of hearing that voice again after so long made Troye panic, his heart rate instantly intensifying. Before he even realized what was happening, he’d dropped the beer in his hand onto the floor, where it crashed a second later in a mess of liquid and shards of glass.

“Fuck,” he let out, panicked blue eyes staring at the mess on the ground before quickly glancing up to meet Connor’s eyes, which made his heart race even more.

No one else had paid him any mind, the sound of the music drowning out the crash from the bottle. As Troye realized they were the only ones in the kitchen, without the prying eyes of anyone else, he became even more rattled, quickly bending down to clean up the mess he had made in an attempt to avoid any further interaction with the boy who was now looking down at him with a curious expression and a furrowed brow.

Troye was tipsy and his hands were nervously shaking and he had no idea _why_ he thought it would be a good idea to pick up glass with his bare hands, but as soon as he did he managed to slice open his palm. He stared at the cut briefly in horror, watching as the blood pooled around the fresh opening in his skin, his lips falling open in order to let out another, “Fuck.”

“Shit, Troye,” Connor said, eyes glazing over with concern as he quickly bent down as well, grabbing Troye’s arm by the wrist to look at the damage.

Troye quickly withdrew from the touch, pulling his hand away as fast as he could and holding it to his chest, staring at Connor with a mix of both fear and longing.

Connor’s forehead wrinkled even more with concern as he looked down at the mess on the floor, and Troye could see the way his brain was trying to work through a series of emotions that were likely the result of Troye’s actions. He hated that after all this time, he could still read Connor so well.

A slight frown found its place upon thin lips as green eyes looked back up to meet blue ones again, jaw now set in a more determined manner, “Go to the bathroom and wash that out. I’ll clean this up,” he said, voice eerily calm.

Troye stood up quickly without saying another word, using whatever excuse he could to get away from the older boy that was making his heart feel like it was going to beat straight out of his chest.

He pushed his way into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and letting his hand run under the lukewarm water coming from the sink, washing the blood away. He winced as the water hit broken skin, looking up to catch his blue eyes in the mirror in front of him. He looked paler than usual, eyes still relatively wide and panicked and slightly glossed over from the alcohol that was still coursing through his veins.

He let out a shaky breath, noticing how his hands were still unsteady and the anxious feeling in his stomach was slowly beginning to rise through his chest. He bit his bottom lip, sitting down on the closed seat of the toilet as he tried to will the feeling away. He knew it wasn’t from the alcohol—although he was sure that wasn’t helping any either—but he knew that what he was feeling right now was mostly due to the green-eyed boy who had just spoken to him for the first time in six months.

There was a quiet knock on the bathroom door, which was opened a second later to reveal said boy, worry still creasing his forehead and concern still lacing his eyes as he looked down at where Troye was sitting.

He closed the door silently behind him, that small frown still present on his lips, “Did you wash it out?” he asked.

Troye was mortified at the situation he was now in. His goal had been to avoid Connor the whole night, not find himself closed in a bathroom with him. Despite this, Troye managed to speak, not feeling fully in control of his actions, “Yeah, I did.”

“With just water?” Connor asked and Troye simply nodded, tearing his gaze away from the older boy to look back down at the hand he had been cradling in his lap.

Connor sighed, opening up the medicine cabinet to pull out some antibiotic ointment and bandages.

“What’re you doing?” Troye blurted out as soon as he noticed Connor wasn’t about to leave him alone anytime soon.

“Making sure you don’t get an infection,” Connor answered simply, kneeling down in front of where Troye was sitting and gently taking his hand into both of his own.

Connor looked up, allowing his gaze to meet Troye’s, questioning whether or not he was going to pull away again. Troye stared back, refusing to break eye contact, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing at the feeling of Connor’s skin against his own again. He was surprised by how familiar it felt. _It had been so long._

Connor was the first to look away, satisfied with whatever answer he had received from the blue eyes in front of him. He applied some ointment to a bandage, gently placing the material over the cut before wrapping Troye’s hand with a larger bandage in order to make sure the smaller one stayed in place and that there was enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

Troye watched him the whole time, following the soft movements of Connor’s hands, taking in how his eyebrows knit together and the way he chewed on his bottom lip in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out as he focused on the task before him.

Troye was entirely unnerved. Everything about this seemed so _normal_. It was if nothing had changed between them—as if that awful conversation on the phone six months before had never happened. It felt like distance and time weren’t real things—it felt like he had just seen Connor yesterday and they had been happy and in love and everything was exactly how it should be—exactly how it always should’ve been.

Troye took in a sharp breath at the sudden stab of pain he felt in his heart when he had that thought. _Nothing had changed, but everything was different._

“Sorry,” Connor said, glancing up at him, assuming Troye’s quick intake of breath was from the cut on his hand. There was a brief pause before Connor continued talking, as if he were trying to ease the obvious tension in the room, “I meant what I said earlier, y’know. You really sounded amazing last night.”

Troye took a moment to process his words, frowning slightly as the memory of that familiar figure standing off to the side of the crowd came back to him, “You were there?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Connor answered, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“ _Why?_ ” Troye asked, his voice much harsher than he had meant it to be, but he couldn’t stop himself—he was utterly perplexed by this situation he had found himself in.

Connor met his gaze with a puzzled expression, as if Troye were asking him the dumbest question possible. He was done wrapping Troye’s hand at this point, but he hadn’t let go of it, his fingers absentmindedly playing with Troye’s.

“I would never miss it,” Connor said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Troye just stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

 _It’s over._ That was the last thing Connor had said to him prior to this night and now here he was, sitting in front of him, holding his fucking hand and acting like going to his ex-boyfriend’s concert was the most normal thing to do.

The frown on Connor’s face deepened as he realized Troye wasn’t going to give him another response. He looked a little more nervous now, and he finally let go of the other boy’s fingers, resting his hand on Troye’s knee instead.

“I mean—I want us to be friends, Troye. Obviously I would come to your show,” he continued, taking a brief pause before adding more quietly, “I can’t imagine not having you in my life.”

_Friends._

Troye stood abruptly at the end of that statement, suddenly feeling like he was going to be sick. _This was not happening right now. He was not having this conversation with Connor. This was not real._

How the hell could Connor be so delusional to think that after everything they had been through, they could somehow still manage to be _friends_?

“I can’t fucking do this,” Troye said, hating the way his voice cracked when he spoke and how he felt the pressure behind his eyes increasing as he pushed his way out of the bathroom. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible and to get as far away from Connor as he could manage.

He brushed past the group he had been chatting with earlier as he made a beeline for the front door, Tyler giving him a quizzical look on his way out , but Troye was too focused to even notice. A moment later he found himself outside, quickly pulling his phone from his pocket to request a cab, needing to get away from this apartment— _away from this situation_ —and back to his hotel room as quickly as he could.

As he waited, he let out a gust of air he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. A shiver ran through his spine and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the slightly chilly night air or from the awful conversation he had just had.

He chewed at his bottom lip, thoughts racing through his mind so quickly that he was having a hard time holding any one of them down. He still couldn’t understand how Connor had acted so _normal_ around him—how it had seemed like nothing had changed. It made him feel nauseous.

Had Connor really not felt anything that he had been feeling over these past six months? The sleepless nights, the endless pain in his chest, the way his breath caught in his throat anytime anyone ever mentioned the other boy’s name. Troye honestly didn’t think Connor could have felt any of that and then acted the way he had—so _normal_ —because Troye had barely been able to handle being in the same room as him.

Troye was pacing back and forth, anxiously fiddling with the bandage on his hand, his mind refusing to slow down.

 _His show_. Connor had been there. That familiar silhouette standing on the edge of the crowd that had made Troye almost forget the words to his own songs actually had been the person half of those songs were about. He’d really been there. _But why? Why was he doing this to him_? Just when things were starting to get better, Connor had to find a way back into his life and turn everything upside down again.

“Troye,” a voice he knew he’d always recognize rang out from behind him and he stopped his pacing, his back facing the other boy—he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“You need to go,” Troye managed to grind out, hands clenching at his side and he flinched at the way the cut on his hand seared from the action. Troye welcomed the pain, anything to distract him from the way his stomach was swirling and his heart was racing and how his lungs felt like they were devoid of all air.

There was a stretch of silence before he felt a gentle hand placed on his shoulder and his whole body went rigid. The voice spoke again, much closer to him now than it had been before, “Troye, talk to me,” Connor said, his voice sounding strained.

“No!” he practically yelled, turning around in a flash, knocking the other boy’s hand from his shoulder. Blue eyes flared at green ones, a mix of both sadness and anger swimming in their depths.

Troye was broken and he looked exactly how he felt. His eyes were dull and wide, his face pale and drawn. A swirl of emotions that told their own story about how his last six months had been was evident on every part of his face. His shoulders were slumped—he felt frail and he looked completely exhausted.

“Troye, I’m _sorry_ ,” Connor said, his eyes were soft and his forehead was still creased in concern. Troye hated the way that look still made him feel—hated how the only person who could give him any comfort was the one person who had somehow managed to take it all away.

“For what?” Troye asked, giving him an incredulous look. He was letting the anger push away those old, familiar feelings that were creeping back up—feelings that only Connor had ever been able to give him.

“I don’t know—everything, I guess. This has all been kind of shitty and—.” Connor started.

“Kind of shitty?” Troye said, letting out a laugh. He hated the way it sounded, harsh and dead, lacking any of the usual lightness his voice normally carried.

“Okay, fair enough,” Connor said, letting out a sigh of his own and running his fingers through his hair as he looked down at the ground in frustration. Troye could tell he was thinking, trying to carefully plan out whatever he was going to say next. It was so typical of him, to always want to have things planned out. A second later, he continued, “I meant what I said earlier. I can’t imagine you not being a part of my life. I don’t want to lose you.”

 _I don’t want to lose you_. Troye laughed again at the irony of it all, somewhat aware of how crazy he probably looked and sounded. Curly hair a mess, eyes wide, laughing like a maniac when he actually felt like crying.

 _Connor didn’t want to lose him?_ That was funny, because for Troye, Connor had already been lost.

“Troye—,” Connor started again, reaching out another hand but Troye moved away, out of his reach.

“Fuck, this is so frustrating,” Troye finally let out, both hands tangling through the curls on his head, palms resting on his forehead and his back falling onto the wall of the building next to them, “I don’t know whether I want to kiss you right now or punch you or something. This is all so fucked up,” he said, letting out another laugh, but it was softer this time, much more like his own.

He was finally coming down from the rush of panic he had been feeling earlier and he was slowly sinking into the reality of the situation he was in. He took in a shaky breath, feeling the sadness swarm into his chest before he looked over at Connor, intentionally avoiding his eyes as he continued, “It wasn’t supposed to end like this Connor, none of it should have gone down this way. What we had was so—so _important_ and how it ended was so meaningless. And— I can’t do this. I can’t have this conversation with you. I thought I wanted to, but I don’t.”

He paused again, trying to find words that made sense, that described what these last six months had been like for him. Troye noticed the look on Connor’s face and for once found him to be unreadable. He sort of looked confused, waging his own war within himself. These last six months hadn’t been easy for him either but of course Troye didn’t know that. Troye didn’t know that Connor had just been better at hiding his emotions. He didn’t know that despite the fact that Connor thought pulling away from Troye when he had the chance would make their separation easier, he had learned over time how wrong he truly was. Troye was completely unaware of the countless sleepless nights that Connor had suffered through and he never could have known that Connor had missed him just as much, if not more, than Troye had missed him.

He let his eyes run over Connor’s face, trying to read him and failing to before he spoke again, voice raw with pent up emotion, “I can’t see you. I can’t be near you. I can’t hear from you, because—,” he paused, “I _can’t_ handle it. I _can’t_ be friends with you, Connor. I could never be friends with you, not after this,” Troye said, feeling a sharp pain in his chest at the way Connor visibly winced when he said those words.

“The less time we spend with each other, the less time we spend talking to one another, the easier it’s going to be for the both of us,” Troye finished, his voice much softer now, worn out from the energy it took him to finally get all of that out. He hated how he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes, the way his chest was getting heavy—he hated how he knew he was completely falling apart. He finally looked away, not wanting Connor to see his face if the tears were going to fall, but he was sinking down into all of his emotions as they were finally coming to a head and words kept tumbling from his mouth.

“I can’t do it anymore, I just—“ he repeated, his voice cracking, but he was interrupted by a soft hand on his cheek and a warm body moving closer to his own. Blue eyes looked up to finally meet green ones, having avoided direct eye contact with him this whole time.

Troye could have never anticipated the rush of emotions he felt from looking into that set of emerald eyes, so close to his own. There was something so honest about them—a conversation that didn’t need words to be said because everything was already there, telling him all that he needed to know.

_Connor had been hurting too._

“Stop,” Connor said softly, but there was firmness to his voice as well. It was as if he were saying that he didn’t want to do this anymore—he didn’t want either of them to feel this way.

Troye didn’t know who moved first but a second later he found thin lips pressed against his own and he was sinking into the boy in front of him. He let his eyes slip closed as the lips beneath his parted, allowing his tongue to slide easily inside and against the other boy’s. Their kiss was soft and slow, like they were each taking their time to reacquaint themselves with one another but at the same time revel in the comfort that was something so simple and familiar. It was everything Troye had needed neatly packaged into one effortless action. It felt like home and he had missed it _so damn much_.

A moment later Troye pulled away, but just barely, their lips still inches apart. At some point his hand had moved to Connor’s shoulder, gripping onto it tightly. Blue eyes glanced down at the lips beneath his own—they were so close to one another he could feel Connor’s breath against his skin, tempting him in again. He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into the hand on his cheek, soaking up the serene feeling this moment had finally given him. He couldn’t explain how all of the stress instantly slipped from his body the minute Connor’s lips had touched his own, but somehow it had. Suddenly, everything felt like it could be okay again. _He needed more._

His eyes opened, flashing down the body before him before meeting a green gaze that looked shades darker than it had been only seconds before. Troye moved his hand to the back of Connor’s neck, pulling their lips together again, slipping another arm around his waist to pull their bodies up against one another.

He heard the other boy let out a light gasp, which was quickly swallowed as Troye opened his mouth to explore Connor’s once again, tongues snaking past one another to roam cheeks and teeth and lips. He ran a hand up the shorter boy’s back, reveling in the familiar feeling of Connor’s muscles, the slight dip in his lower back and the subsequent shiver that ran up his spine.

Connor’s arms had moved around his head, tangling in the back of his hair, holding him in place as he kissed him harder.

Troye groaned at the way Connor’s body was flush against his own, the heat of his skin permeating through his shirt and the bulge in his jeans becoming slowly more evident.

Troye was about to drag the boy back inside to at least try to find somewhere more private when they were interrupted by bright lights shining over their faces. Troye reluctantly pulled away, eyes opening and blinking rapidly to notice that his cab was finally here.

He glanced at Connor, catching his teeth on his slightly swollen bottom lip as he watched the other boy, unsure of what to do now that his way out had finally arrived. Their eyes met and Troye easily made a decision, grasping the other boy’s hand and pulling him towards the car.

\---

The ride home had been tense, their hands gripping tightly together as they shot charged glances over to one another every few seconds. Luckily, the drive was short, but it had still somehow managed to feel like an eternity. Troye practically had to restrain himself from crawling on top of Connor right there in the back of the cab, his fingers drumming impatiently against his thigh.

The minute they broke through the door to Troye’s hotel room, the energy surrounding them had finally reached its peak.

Troye pushed Connor’s back against the wall, his arm resting on the faded wallpaper above his head as he leaned his body into the boy beneath him, running a hand down his side and catching his lips in a heated kiss.

Connor’s hands gripped Troye’s back, moving slowly down until they reached the bottom of his shirt, grasping the hem to pull it over his head. Their lips parted as Connor removed the inhibiting piece of fabric, tossing it carelessly onto the floor beside them.

Connor began to move in to capture Troye’s mouth once again but a gentle hand to his chest stopped him. Troye looked pointedly down to his chest and at the shirt that was still on his frame, unapologetically letting his eyes rake over Connor’s figure, “Yours too,” he said with a smirk.

A sly smile spread over thin lips as Connor moved his hands to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it slowly over his head, letting Troye enjoy the view before he tossed the material to join Troye’s on the floor.

Troye let his eyes scan over Connor’s torso, taking in every hard line of muscle and scattered freckle, trying to commit back to memory the things he had almost forgotten. He bit his lip, moving his fingers to trace down Connor’s chest and over his toned stomach, taking his time to indulge in the feeling of touching his skin once again.

Connor’s hands were running down his arms, fingers gripping lightly onto skin as Troye brought his gaze back up to catch the other boy’s eyes. The corner of Troye’s lip pulled up into a half smile, loving how they were both taking their time to appreciate something they had gone so long without. But that smile was quickly wiped from his face in surprise as Connor slid an arm around his waist, flipping their position so that Troye’s back hit the wall with a thump.

He let out an involuntary gasp when Connor’s lips attached to his neck, moving up to the spot just underneath his ear that drove him crazy as he laid his hands flat against Troye’s bare chest, running them slowly over his nipples and down to his stomach where they gripped onto his waist.

Troye moaned, a shiver running through his body from the feeling of Connor exploring his skin. After all this time, Connor hadn’t managed to forget his way around his body. He still remembered every spot that made Troye’s heart quicken and his breathing increase, driving all of the blood in his body downward as his need for the older boy grew even more.

He felt Connor’s lips detach from his neck, moving up to ghost soft gusts of heated air across his ear, Troye’s eyes slipping shut at the sensation.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Connor ground out quietly, moving a hand to run over the bulge in Troye’s pants before giving it a light squeeze.

A moan ripped from Troye’s throat, his chest heaving slightly from the heat coursing through his veins. He moved his hands frantically to the top of Connor’s jeans, fiddling with the button as the older boy moved away from his ear to press kisses along the line of his jaw, his hand still palming Troye through his jeans who inadvertently pressed his hips up into the pressure, desperate for more contact.

Finally getting the button undone, Troye sloppily pushed Connor’s jeans off of his hips and past his knees. His hands quickly slipped into the hem Connor’s boxers, moving over his ass, allowing his fingers to drag along his skin.

Connor let out what sounded like a mix between a growl and a moan, biting down on the skin of Troye’s shoulder where he had just been trailing kisses. Moving his hand off of the growing erection in Troye’s jeans, he popped the button from his pants, pushing them along with his underwear off of his skinny legs.

Troye gasped as his heated skin hit the much cooler room, but the sound was quickly turned into a drawn out moan as Connor wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, swiveling his wrist to move his hand up and down his length.

Troye let his forehead fall onto Connor’s shoulder, labored breaths puffing hot air onto his skin. He bit his bottom lip, suppressing a groan as Connor passed his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the pre-come that had started to collect there down his length.

Troye moved his lips to Connor’s neck, letting his teeth pull and tug at the skin hard enough to leave marks but soft enough for it to still feel good. He impatiently pushed Connor’s boxers off of his hips, placing a hand gently on his chest to indicate he wanted to move to the bed.

Connor took the hint, releasing Troye in order to step out of his pants as he backed up towards the bed. When the back of his knees hit the mattress he sat down, staring up at the blue-eyed boy in front of him—curly hair a disheveled mess, face flushed a pale pink, and pouty lips swollen from hard kisses.

Troye dropped down to his knees before him, hands gripping onto the top of Connor’s thighs as he moved his body in between his legs. His eyes had shifted to the aching length that was now in front of him, standing up proudly against Connor’s stomach.

He reached out a hand, letting long fingers wrap around his length. It felt hard and smooth beneath his palm as he moved his wrist up and down a few times, feeling him twitch beneath his fingers. Troye moved closer, wrapping his lips around the head of Connor’s cock as he continued to work the base. He let his tongue swirl around the head, starting to bob lightly up and down, taking more of him in with each movement.

“Shit,” Connor whispered out, his fingers tangling into the hair on the top of Troye’s head. He had fallen back onto his elbow, the muscles in his stomach tight with the strain of holding himself up enough to watch the boy below him take more of him into his mouth.

Another moan spilled from his lips as Troye began to pick up the pace, another hand coming around to give his balls a squeeze. Connor could feel the heat curling in his stomach and he knew he was getting close to the edge.

“Troye, wait,” Connor ground out, tugging on the curly mass of hair he had clenched in his fist.

Troye let his lips pop off of him, pressing a soft kiss to his inner thigh before moving them languidly up Connor’s body, leaving a trail of heated kisses and marks along the way until he was holding himself up on his elbows, hovering over the other boy who had now fallen completely onto his back. His curly hair was hanging over Connor’s forehead as icy blue eyes stared down at him, an eyebrow quirked and a mischievous smile playing on his swollen lips.

“Hmm?” Troye questioned, leaning down to press a slow kiss to Connor’s mouth, letting their tongues swirl lazily around each other before finally pulling away.

“I want—” Connor started, distracted by the way Troye’s lips had moved to his neck, his chest heaving with shattered breaths.

“You want what?” Troye asked quietly once his lips had made their way to his ear, letting his tongue run along the shell of it before his teeth pulled gently at the top. He slid his hand down Connor’s stomach, thin fingers wrapping around him and giving him a light tug.

Connor moaned, eyes squeezing shut as his body responded to the action, hips involuntarily thrusting up into Troye’s hand.

Green eyes flashed back open to be met with blue ones staring down at him, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Fuck me,” he said, before another moan spilled from his lips as Troye ran his hand over the head of his cock.

Troye smirked, pressing his body down on the boy beneath him, grinding their hips together and moaning when their erections made contact. He reached his mouth down to meet Connor’s once again, their tongues connecting before their lips did in one final kiss before Troye moved off of him to grab what he needed from his suitcase.

Connor let out an exasperated sigh at the sudden loss of contact, watching as the skinny boy pulled a small bottle of lube and a condom from his bag. He had propped himself up on his elbows again, eyes running over the entirety of Troye’s body.

When Troye looked back over at him, he smirked at the way Connor was watching him, “Move up,” he said, nodding towards the top of the bed where all of the pillows were settled.

Connor quickly obeyed, scrambling back so he was half laying, half sitting up, supported by the pillows beneath him.

Troye crawled back onto the bed, settling his body in between Connor’s spread thighs. He ran a hand over the other boy’s chest, taking the time to tweak one of his nipples, moving his lips down to catch the other one in his mouth.

Connor let out a contented sigh, eyes sliding shut as Troye moved his lips down his stomach, past the trail of hair that led to where he wanted to go. He heard the sound of a cap being opened, before he felt the cold, light brush of Troye’s slicked finger against his hole and a tongue running along the length of his cock. He shuddered at the feeling, handing gripping onto Troye’s shoulders as Troye pressed against him, slowly moving a finger inside.

Once there, Troye let his finger twist around for a moment before he pulled back and slowly started to push back in. He continued this action, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sides of Connor’s cock before he slowly added a second digit to go along with the first.

Connor let out a loud groan, one hand moving from Troye’s shoulder to run down his back, fingers scratching at his skin. He was beginning to press his hips back down onto Troye’s fingers, trying to get more of the feeling of fullness inside of him.

Troye smiled to himself, carefully watching the boy in front of him who had his eyes clenched shut, chest flush with a thin sheen of sweat decorating his body. He curled his fingers inside of him, grinning as he brushed his prostate and another loud moan spilled from Connor’s lips, green eyes flashing back open.

“Troye, _please_ ,” he let out desperately, hips moving more forcefully back onto his fingers now as he ached for Troye to hit that spot again.

Troye pressed kisses to his inner thighs, quickly adding one more finger and a few extra thrusts for good measure before pulling them completely from the boy’s body.

A slight whimper escaped Connor’s lips at the sudden sensation of emptiness he was now feeling. Troye quickly tore open the condom and slid it over his own aching length, applying a generous amount of lube before he leaned back over the other boy, the tip of his cock pressing against Connor’s entrance.

He leaned his body fully over him, pressing a simple kiss to his lips as their foreheads rested together and he slowly started to push inside of him. Connor had one hand holding onto the back of Troye’s neck, the other gripping onto his hip hard enough to leave bruises.

Troye was pushing himself inside of him at an agonizingly slow pace, allowing Connor to adjust to the size and fullness. Once he finally bottomed out, Troye paused, burying his face in the crook of Connor’s neck as he tried to hold himself together.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he breathed out, feeling like he was about to come just from the sensation of Connor’s walls gripping onto his cock.

As Connor was finally adjusting to having Troye inside of him, he slowly began to push himself back onto his length, needing to feel the boy above him move.

“Troye,” he whined, starting to get impatient at the lack of movement.

Troye took the hint, attaching his lips to Connor’s neck as he pulled his cock almost all of the way out of the boy beneath him, before pushing himself back in.

He gripped onto Connor’s legs, lifting one up slightly to improve his angle as he continued his somewhat slow thrusts in and out of the other boy.

The change in position worked and Connor let out a long moan when Troye’s cock pressed up against his prostate, the feeling sending shots of electricity through his body.

Connor moved his arms, gripping onto the headboard behind him as he swiveled his hips, desperately trying to push himself onto Troye at a faster pace, to get him to hit that spot more frequently.

“Troye, please,” he practically cried, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as he felt Troye hit his prostate once again.

Troye let out a moan of his own, the sounds Connor was making driving him completely insane. He gripped onto the other boy’s hip, still holding his one leg up with his other arm as he began to move at a much faster pace. He snapped his hips back and forth quickly, driving into the boy beneath him and successfully pushing into that satisfying spot with each thrust.

Connor had become a shattered mess beneath him, moans spilling from his mouth along with the occasional curse. A pool of pre-come was collecting on his stomach and Troye could tell from the wrecked look on his face that he was close.

“Troye—fuck,” Connor started before losing his train of thought as another wave of pleasure rolled through his body. He was desperately holding onto Troye’s back, fingernails leaving lines that were sure to show the next morning, “I’m close,” he finally managed to get out.

“Fuck,” Troye ground out. He knew he was close as well, the heat beginning to pool and clench in the pit of his stomach as he pressed into Connor at an even faster rate. He let his head fall back alongside Connor’s face, placing a sloppy kiss to his neck as the other boy desperately pressed back into him.

He moved his face back up, blue eyes staring into green ones as he rested their foreheads together once again, “Come with me,” he whispered against his lips as he slammed into his prostate one final time.

A loud moan ripped from Connor’s lips and he practically screamed Troye’s name as he spent himself over his stomach. The feeling of Connor’s walls clenching around him as he released sent Troye over the edge seconds later, riding out his orgasm with a few final thrusts and a loud moan.

“Fuck, Connor,” Troye said exhaustedly, practically collapsing on top of the other boy when he had finished, not even caring about the bigger mess he was probably making by doing so.

Connor was trying to catch his breath, letting his arms fall from where they had been gripping onto the headboard behind him, before they slowly wrapped around the skinny boy on top of him.

Connor pressed a kiss to his cheek, nudging his head so that he could get their lips to meet. Troye propped himself up slightly, allowing their lips to connect and their tongues to mix, both sinking into the comfort of being with the other person after what had felt like the longest time.

Troye finally pulled away after what could have been a full minute, letting his softened length slip out of the boy beneath him as he got up to grab some tissues. He tossed the condom into the trashcan before crawling back onto the bed to clean the both of them up.

Connor just watched him the whole time, letting his fingers trace lightly over his arms, across his jaw, and through his hair.

Once he was finished, Troye disposed of the mess and crawled under the covers where Connor had already managed to settle himself. He let an arm slip loosely around the other boy’s hips, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as those green eyes began to slip closed. Troye smiled, his own eyes beginning to feel heavy as well.

“I love you,” he whispered against Connor’s shoulder, just before he lost himself to sleep.

Troye hadn’t even noticed that the phrase had managed to slip out. Those three words had been such a force of habit for so long—such a simple truth that he had never once questioned, even after all this time.

\---

Troye woke up to sunlight casting shadows over his sheets and bright rays shining into his eyes. He groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers over his head in order to shield himself from the light that was accentuating the slight pounding in his head caused by the alcohol he had drank the night before.

His groggy brain was slowly starting to come into focus as he woke up, the events of the night before beginning to settle down into his mind. He blindly reached out an arm as the memories flooded him, feeling cold sheets in the space next to him where he knew a warm body should have been. He flung the comforter off his head and quickly sat up, groaning at the way that made his head hurt even more. He grabbed his forehead, wincing as the cut on his hand seared in pain from the action. He glanced down, looking at the bandage that was now poorly wrapped around his hand and how it was stained with blood; he had been a little too preoccupied the night before to be more careful with it and the dull ache of pain coursing from his hand through his wrist was evidence of that.

He let his injured hand drop down to his side, the other one coming up to run through tired, messy locks as his eyes scanned the room looking for the boy he should have woken up with.

“Connor?” he called out, his voice sounding hoarse and dry.

He frowned when he didn’t get a response, swinging bare legs over the edge of the bed in order to stand up. He bent down to grab his boxers that were still strewn on the floor with the rest of his clothes but before he reached them he froze. His eyes darted around the mess on the floor, his heart sinking into his stomach when he realized that Connor’s clothes were already gone.

He stood up quickly, eyes searching around the room a second time, desperate to find some remnant of the other boy to prove that he hadn’t gone—that he hadn’t left without saying anything—but there was nothing.

Troye felt his chest constrict, his stomach tying into knots as that familiar feeling of nausea took over him. He pushed his hands through his hair, taking in a deep, shaky breath as he sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

He felt physically sick, the bile in his stomach rising through his throat and for a moment Troye was afraid he might actually throw up. He felt pressure building behind his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut, trying to will away the tears he could feel coming on. Troye didn’t have words for how he was feeling in that moment. Waking up to an empty bed after someone had been there the night before was always a terrible feeling, but this was different. It was different because this hadn’t been some random hook-up with a guy he’d only met the night before—this wasn’t some stupid one-night stand. This was different because this was _Connor_.

Troye slid a hand down his face and over his mouth as he let out a choked sob, eyes opening to stare out into the empty room as a few tears fell past his cheeks. Troye couldn’t help the feeling of finality that was settling over his chest. The air in the room felt stale and the silence was so strong it made Troye’s head hurt even more. There was something distinct about the atmosphere—about this situation that he was finding himself in—that made Troye feel like it was really over this time.

His eyes widened briefly as he remembered the final moments of the previous night—those three words that had tumbled from his lips just before they had fallen asleep.

He had told Connor he loved him—something he had probably done a thousand times over. But he was just now realizing that that might’ve been a because it had been six months since those words had last left his mouth, and Connor hadn’t said them back and now he was gone.

Maybe it had all been too much for him—maybe Troye had simply been too much.

He stood up quickly, desperate to shake off the sickening feeling that was spreading throughout his entire body. He headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower and quickly moving to stand under the stream of hot water pouring down.

He tried to let the sound of the water drown out his thoughts, let the burn of the water on his skin distract him from how heavy his heart felt. He tried to focus on the way the water saturated his hair and dripped over his face so that he could ignore the way his lungs felt like they couldn’t take in enough air in order to breath.

But nothing was working. Thoughts of Connor and the night before, everything they had said—everything that hadn’t needed to say—crashed through his mind like a waterfall.

Troye sunk down onto the shower floor, feeling completely defeated. He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face against his skin as the water streamed over his body, drowning out the sounds of his sobs and mixing effortlessly with the tears that fell from his face.

Waking up to an empty bed was more than what it seemed. Waking up to an empty bed held a note of finality that Troye couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to come up with a million reasons and potential excuses as to why.

The lack of the other boy’s presence was more of an answer for Troye than anything Connor could have ever said to his face.

Troye sat like that for a long time. He sat there until the water ran cold and the tears dried up and he began to feel numb. Numb to the pain in his hand, numb to the freezing cold water drenching his back, numb to the ache in his heart.

Troye had a feeling being numb was something he was going to have to get used to.

\---

Later that day Troye found himself at the airport, ready to catch a flight that would take him halfway across the world and back home. He was surprised he had managed to make it there, but here he was. His hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes were slightly red and puffy.

He was standing at the check-in counter, not listening to whatever the airport employee was saying to him. He was just staring blankly at a spot on the ground, his blue eyes dull and sad.

Once he was finished, he turned around, tucking the papers the airline attendant had given him into his back pocket before looking up to find where he needed to go next. He managed to take one step forward before his body came to a striking halt, blue eyes connecting with green ones standing still across the way in a sea of moving people.

Troye paused, feeling his entire body go rigid as his heart rate started to increase, thoughts beginning to fly through his mind as he tried to comprehend whether or not what he was seeing was actually real. _Why would he be here right now?_

At some point Troye had started moving again, his feet blindly making their way towards that familiar set of green eyes. His brain was screaming at him to turn around, to head the other way, to forget about this boy who had caused him so much pain for so long, but his heart wouldn’t let him.

A few seconds later he reached Connor, stopping in front of him, less than a foot in the space between them.

“What’re you doing here?” Troye asked quietly, surprised by how even his voice sounded, how calm he felt in this situation.

There they were—two people standing still in a mass of moving bodies—like a rock in a flowing stream that at some point had cracked, allowing water to seep through the middle and eventually push one of the pieces farther away from where it was supposed to be, from where it actually belonged.

Blue eyes bore into green ones, displaying a sea of emotions and a flurry of questions. There was no more hiding—the pain, the months of hurt, the restless feeling of longing that had been constantly tugging at his heart—all of it was present in his eyes, which were asking one final question.

Thin lips eventually parted, green eyes refusing to break away from blue ones as Connor finally responded, “I didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.”

Troye let those words wash over him and he was surprised to find his lips curving upward into a smile, despite the prickle of tears he could feel glossing over his eyes.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, taking the time to fully appreciate the boy he had in front of him. His sandy brown hair that fell in slight waves over his forehead, the lines surrounding his mouth which was set into a sharp line, the smooth angle of his jaw and how it accentuated his face so nicely. Troye took the time to take in each one of Connor’s features—he was beautiful, really.

All of the pain he had felt over the last six months had clouded his memories, warping them in a way that made Troye feel like everything about the boy in front of him had caused him pain. But there had been so much happiness. So many laughs and smiles, so many good memories that they had had with one another over the last two years. Troye was grateful for it all, because despite all of the loss he had been feeling recently, Connor had actually given him _so much_.

Troye reached out a hand and Connor instinctually did the same, letting their fingers clasp together. Troye was surprised at the way the older boy’s hand gripped onto his own, like he never wanted to let it go. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity before Troye finally moved to pull away and he felt Connor give his hand one last comforting squeeze. In that moment, Troye felt incredibly lucky.

He was lucky to have loved him and lucky to have been loved by him.

“Bye, Connor.” Troye said, that small smile never leaving his face as he turned around, away from the boy that had meant so much to him for so long.

“Bye, Troye,” he heard from behind him as he finally walked away.

If there was one thing that Troye knew for certain it was that there were some people you would always miss, even long after they’re gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Happy Valentine's Day? (don't kill me)
> 
> Literally, SO SORRY this took so long but I hope it was worth it. I really liked how this turned out and I'm oddly proud of it.
> 
> Thank you to Hannah (TroyesCoolShit) for editing for me again, she really is the best person ever.
> 
> COMMENT PLEASE. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
> 
> Also follow me on twitter (xshadesofpurple) if you want writing updates or to be my friend.
> 
> Also, we are about half-way done, WHAT.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> xx Angela


	8. COOL

Troye groaned, rolling over as he dragged the white hotel comforter above his head in frustration, sleepy eyes refusing to open just yet. The sound of a familiar deep voice drifting through the room had pulled him awake earlier than he would have liked, the noise and the bright rays of sunlight that were now streaming through the window adding to the incessant throbbing in his skull. He wrapped the blanket tighter over his head, trying to drown out the sound of his boyfriend’s voice from across the room, but it wasn’t working as well as he wanted it to.

Another groan slipped past his lips. His head was pounding from his usual hangover and his mouth felt impossibly dry. Honestly, he just wanted to go back to sleep for a few more hours, but from the way Alex’s voice kept getting louder and angrier on the other side of the room he knew how unrealistic that aspiration was.

Troye sighed, dramatically tossing the comforter off of his head and rolling onto his side as blue eyes flashed open to glare at the back of an older man standing across the room, phone up to his ear as he angrily argued with someone on the other end. If Troye hadn’t been so annoyed he probably would have taken the time to appreciate the attractive boy he had standing in front of him. Alex had only managed to pull on a pair of slacks before he answered his phone, leaving the full expanse of his back open for wandering eyes. Troye might have normally taken the time to admire the sight of his toned muscles hidden underneath a span of tanned skin. He might have been taken aback by the intensity of Alex’s blue eyes and how they stood out so strikingly from his head of dark hair and the well-groomed scruff that scattered his cheeks. A few months ago, Troye might have actually appreciated the fact that he could call this boy his own, but at the moment, he was _so fucking annoyed._

This was their third day on vacation in Hawaii and Troye was convinced that Alex had spent the large majority of their time together at the resort on his phone. Troye didn’t know why he had expected anything less—Alex was a relatively influential music executive after all, one who had a family who had been known in the industry for years. His family’s affluence alone gave the press an invested opinion on his life—they were constantly around with their cameras, wanting to know what he was doing, who he was working with, who he happened to be dating—and now Troye was wrapped up in it all.

Dating Alex had had both a positive and negative impact on Troye’s life. They had met a little over six months ago at a large music gala, immediately hitting it off from the moment they first spoke. Troye’s music career had been taking off and his latest single was quickly climbing the charts. He had an aura of confidence about him that night that Alex was inevitably attracted to, and Troye had a hard time turning down a big name and a beautiful smile.

What had started out as a purely physical relationship eventually blossomed into something more as the press began to spot the two together more often than not. They were frequently photographed standing next to each other, the press catching a shot of Alex leaning a little too close to whisper something into Troye’s ear, and one time they had been caught in ruffled clothes at an event, after having been missing for an extended period of time. Troye wasn’t always proud of what they did and where they did it, but it was fun and exciting and always something new. When the press had started picking up on their relationship and making it into something more than what it actually was, they had both decided to just go with it. The response from the media had been relatively positive and was giving them both more exposure. Having a relationship with Alex gave Troye the chance to get his name out there, and by dating Troye, Alex gave the press something to talk about, which is half of what he and his family were famous for to begin with.

But sometimes when it was the dead of night and Troye found himself lying restlessly awake, next to a boy he knew he didn’t love and staring blankly up at a ceiling in a house bigger than anything a person could ever need, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness would consume him. Troye’s music had always been his passion, but at some point in the last year he had gotten so swept up in it all that he’d lost himself. He had become so absorbed in his success and the lifestyle that that success had given him that every so often he would have those nights where he would lay awake and feel sick about it all. Sure, Alex was hot and the sex was good but was Troye really the type of person to be in a relationship just for show? To date someone just because it brought him some sort of personal benefit? A year ago he would have absolutely answered no to those questions and yet here he was, in the exact situation that he had always been afraid of.

Troye was snapped out of his thoughts to the sound of Alex letting out a loud, “Fuck this bullshit,” as he hung up his phone. Troye had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Conversations with Alex ending like this were nothing new, even Troye had been on the other end of it several times, and as time went on it just served to annoy him more and more.

Troye finally sat up in bed, running a hand through the mess of curls knotted on top of his head, “Can you try not to be on your phone the whole day for once?” he asked.

Alex barely gave Troye a glance, sitting down at the desk in their room and opening up his laptop. “We’ll see, I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, honestly,” was his short reply.

This time Troye didn’t even try to stop himself from rolling his eyes, hopping off of the bed to head to the bathroom, “Yeah, okay,” was all he managed to say in response.

He needed a hot shower to wash off his hangover and clear his mind from all of the irritated thoughts that had already started to swarm him. This was _not_ what he had expected his vacation to be like.

\---

Several hours and another phone call later, Troye and Alex had managed to find their way down to the pool. Troye was sprawled out on his back in a lounge chair, his normally pale skin already lightly tanned from the few days he’d spent in the sun. A set of expensive sunglasses rested on his nose, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun overhead that he was pretty certain was starting to bring back the pounding in his head from earlier.

A slight frown graced his lips, eyes slipping closed as he tried to focus on how the heat from the sun was warming up his skin instead of how the remnants of his hangover were making him feel. His morning had already been frustrating enough—listening to Alex on the phone for what felt like forever—he just wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing with minimal distractions.

As soon as his shoulders started to relax he heard the familiar tone of Alex’s phone ringing once again. His eyes flashed open and he propped himself up on his elbow, moving his glasses down his nose to shoot a glare in his boyfriend’s direction. They had been out of the room for ten fucking minutes and he was already getting another call?

“Are you—” Troye started to ask as Alex looked down at his phone.

“I have to take this,” he said simply, not even sounding apologetic about it as he glanced back up at Troye. He frowned slightly, noticing the annoyed look on his boyfriend’s face before he added, “It won’t take long. Go get us drinks, I’ll be done by the time you get back.”

The frown on Troye’s face only deepened as he watched the older man answer his phone, walking away from the busy pool area in order to talk somewhere more private. He rolled his eyes, sitting up fully and swinging his legs over the side of the chair as he pulled a white t-shirt on over his chest. He was irritated enough that Alex had answered his phone for the third time this morning, but _now_ he was making him get up and walk over to the bar as well? Troye managed to think that at least another drink would help to make his headache go away, before he briefly acknowledged how awful of a thought that really was.

He stood up, making his way to the opposite side of the pool where there was a large outdoor bar. Once there, he sat down at an open seat, resting his elbow on the counter and combing his fingers through his hair. He caught his teeth on his bottom lip, chewing at it slightly as he stared blankly down at a spot on the bar in front of him.

He was lost in thought again, thinking about how bad these last few days had been. They hadn’t felt much like a vacation, especially with Alex constantly working. It was impossibly irritating and every time Alex did something for his job, Troye became more and more annoyed with him. Lately, it felt like everything Alex did irritated him, and every time it happened, Troye would start to question every aspect of their relationship. It was a cycle that he was desperate to break.

“What can I get for you?” a cheerful voice drifted from across the bar, pulling Troye out of his train of thought and causing him to look up, blue eyes catching startling green ones.

Troye tilted his head to the side, taking a moment to take in the boy standing in front of him. He was cute, with a mop of somewhat wavy brown hair that was short on the sides but long on the top, falling gently over his forehead and into his shocking green eyes. He had high cheekbones that helped to accentuate a sharp jawline and a set of thin, pink lips that happened to be quirked up into a smile. He was wearing a crisp white button-up shirt that was the customary resort uniform, but it somehow managed to look exceptional on him, emphasizing his figure nicely and highlighting both the shape of his shoulders and what Troye presumed to be a relatively fit torso.

He shifted his wandering eyes back up, meeting the bartender’s gaze once again and noticing the slight smirk that was now pulling up the corner of his own lips.

“Yeah, can I get two scotches please?” Troye asked. They were at a tropical resort in Hawaii but scotch was still the only thing Alex would drink.

“Sure,” the boy across the bar said with an easy smile, “Single malt or blended?” he questioned as he pulled two glasses off the rack behind him.

Troye stared at him for a moment, trying to think about what he had just said. He didn’t normally order drinks for himself, that was something that Alex usually did for the both of them. To be honest, Troye had always thought that scotch was just scotch.

“Um,” he hesitated. For some reason, he didn’t want to look stupid in front of this boy and he hated the thought of admitting that he didn’t know what he was talking about, “The first one.”

Connor quirked a brow at his response, noticing the initial blank look on Troye’s face and then the confused furrow of his eyebrows that followed, his easy smile transitioning back into another light smirk.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?” the bartender asked with a laugh.

A small frown pulled across Troye’s face. He knew the other boy was right—he just hated admitting it and he wasn’t used to people calling him out on it. He was frustrated. Frustrated mostly by the fact that he should have known this— _would have_ known this—had he not been so wrapped up in this delusional life he had been leading. Not to mention there was also a much simpler part of him that was mad because if he hadn’t been trying to keep up with this façade he had made for himself, he would have been ordering a drink he actually wanted to begin with, _not_ scotch.

He ran a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to finally respond, “I do, I just—,” he started, but it was brief before Connor was cutting him off.

“Neat or on the rocks?” he questioned, a teasing glint in his eyes. Troye noticed that the look wasn’t malicious or rude, just— _playful_.

“Okay, I know what that one means,” Troye said, finally letting out a laugh, feeling the tension disperse from his shoulders and seeming oddly at ease with the boy standing in front of him. He looked up, catching those green eyes in his icy blue stare. He held that gaze for a moment, the corner of his lip curling up into a smile as he answered, “On the rocks.”

“Comin’ up,” Connor grinned, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the top shelf and pouring the drinks, putting them on the bar in front of Troye once he was finished. He rested an arm on the counter, taking a moment to study the curly-haired boy sitting in front of him before opening his mouth to speak, “Y’know, you don’t strike me as someone who would drink scotch.”

Troye reached out a hand to pick up one of the glasses, staring down at the liquid as he swirled it around in the cup, hearing the ice clink against the sides. For some reason, he didn’t feel pressured to respond right away. The silence was stretching between them but it seemed oddly comfortable. For once, Troye felt like he could take the time to think about what he wanted to say.

“Yeah, I actually kind of hate it,” he finally answered, looking up to meet the set of eyes still watching him from the other side of the bar.

Connor threw his head back in laughter at that response, the sound loud and clear as it rang through the air. “So, why the hell are you ordering it then?” he asked, once he had finished laughing, raising a questioning eyebrow at the boy in front of him.

“I—,” Troye started, but he was distracted by the set of green eyes settled across from him that were still sparkling with laughter. He paused, thinking about what he wanted to say next. He could have lied—come up with some dumb excuse as to why he had decided to order a drink that he hated—but there was something about the boy in front of him that was making him want to be unbearably honest. “I have no fucking idea, honestly,” he said, letting out another laugh of his own, a smile finding a place on his face again.

“You’re in Hawaii, okay. You should be drinking something a little more tropical than scotch,” Connor said, hands quickly moving behind the bar as he started to mix up another drink.

Troye watched him as he worked. His movements were deft and effortless, easily grabbing bottles that were needed and quickly pouring everything with precision. His hands seemed experienced, covered by an expanse of taut, tanned skin that was slightly rough from the job, somehow knowing exactly where they needed to go and what they needed to do at any given point.

“Try this,” Connor said when he was finished, pulling Troye’s gaze away from his hands as he placed a much prettier drink in front of him. It was yellow and had a slice of pineapple resting on the rim of the glass. Connor smirked, plucking one of those little paper umbrellas from behind the bar and placing it into the drink as an after-thought. Troye rolled his eyes playfully at that, before reaching out a hand to bring the cup to his lips.

“Okay, yeah. This is so much better,” he said with a quiet laugh as he pulled the glass away, his tongue sneaking out to swipe the remaining liquid from his lips.

He met the other boy’s eyes again, a lazy finger swirling the umbrella around his cup as he bit onto his bottom lip. Connor didn’t look away, that playful smirk not once leaving his face.

“Thanks,” Troye finally said, grabbing the drinks and leaving one of the scotches on the bar as he stood up to go.

“No problem,” Connor said, finally breaking their gaze as he moved to grab a cloth to wipe down the bar.

As Troye turned to walk away he heard a voice come from behind him, soft but firm, “Don’t try so hard to be something you’re not, okay?”

Troye glanced over his shoulder only to be met with a soft smile, and he couldn’t help the way he smiled back. In another situation what the bartender had said to him might have sounded sort of offensive, but there was something really genuine about the way he had said it—something really genuine about this boy with green eyes and a musical laugh—that Troye couldn’t help the way his thoughts kept drifting back to him for the rest of the day.

\---

Later that evening Troye was standing in front of a full length mirror, flattening the material of the black button-up shirt he had pulled over his arms, trying to decide whether or not this was what he wanted to wear for dinner.

Just as he was making a decision and moving to button the shirt up over the white tee he had on underneath, the shrill sound of Alex’s phone ringing blared throughout the room, and Troye could feel his shoulders immediately tense up.

His head snapped to look over his shoulder, hands frozen at the bottom of his shirt and perfectly styled curls bouncing on his forehead from the action. His icy eyes glared directly at Alex before they darted to the phone on the table, then moved back to Alex once again.

Alex held their gaze briefly and for a single moment Troye thought he might actually think twice about answering, but a second later he watched as the older man looked away, moving for the phone that was incessantly ringing.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Troye immediately snapped. Without much further thought he quickly moved to snatch the phone off of the desk beside him, thankful it was much closer to him than Alex so he could get to it first.

“Troye,” Alex said, a hint of annoyance to his voice, and Troye could see how his eyebrow twitched in irritation. He didn’t say anything further, just reached his hand out for the device when he was close enough, but Troye only stared at him, a death-like grip on the phone in his hand.

A second passed and Alex frowned, “Troye, seriously. Give me the phone.”

“No,” Troye said adamantly, taking a step back. He was somewhat aware of how immature he was being but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He thought if he had to listen to Alex answer the phone one more fucking time he was going to explode.

“Are you—,” Alex started, letting out a frustrated sigh, “You’re so fucking immature,” he said, voice raising, dark blue eyes glaring in Troye’s direction.

Troye opened his mouth, about to respond, before he was taken aback as Alex grabbed onto his wrist with one hand, yanking the phone from him with the other.

“What the fuck—let go of me!” Troye eventually got out, pulling away from him, eyes flaring with anger.

Alex just rolled his eyes, turning his back on him as he brought the phone to his ear, the relentless ringing finally coming to an end.

Troye stared at him in shock for a moment, listening to the deep rumble of Alex’s voice as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. He unconsciously touched his hand to his wrist, glancing down to notice the light red lines starting to appear where Alex had grabbed him. Something about that just made him _snap_.

“This is so fucking stupid!” Troye practically shouted, disregarding that whoever was on the other end of the call could clearly hear what he was saying. Alex turned around, forehead creased in anger and eyes laced with irritation.

“This,” Troye said, not bothering to decrease the volume of his voice and taking a moment to pause and wave his hand in between the both of them, “Is a fucking joke,” he concluded, moving towards the door, not looking back as he opened it and slammed the door behind him.

\---  
  
Troye hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, blindly making his way out of the resort and into the slightly sticky night air. The light breeze that always seemed to be blowing was brushing his still unbuttoned shirt around his frame, just as it was gusting the leaves on the palm trees around him and disheveling the curls sitting on top of his head.

A frustrated sigh burst past his lips and he hastily pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, removing one of them and placing it between his lips. His hands were still shaky with anger as he brought a lighter up to his mouth, taking a moment to stop walking in order to inhale. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as they expanded, swirling around as he let the nicotine take effect. He let out the breath, smoke gusting past his lips to be carried off into the summer air before he began moving once again, pulling the cigarette from his mouth as he walked, his unoccupied hand unconsciously clenching and unclenching the whole time he moved. He was trying to suppress the anger that was surging through him. This whole vacation had been miserable and was just a shocking reminder of how shallow his relationship—how shallow _his life_ —actually was.

Troye continued blindly on his path, hand moving frequently to and from his lips, smoke entering and exiting his lungs with ease as endless thoughts swirled around his mind. Eventually he came to a halt, noticing that his feet had finally hit sand. He looked up from where he had been staring angrily at the ground in order to find that he’d made it all the way to the beach.

Troye took it all in—the soft sounds of waves crashing against the shore, the way the breeze gusted through the loose grains of sand on the ground, how the lowering sun was casting rays of orange and red all around him. The tension immediately seeped from his shoulders at the sight and he felt them drop, calming down with every new wave that landed on the beach.

As blue eyes scanned the water’s edge they eventually came to rest on the only other figure standing on this stretch of the beach. The corner of Troye’s lips quirked up into a smile as he recognized the boy from the bar, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips to take a drag as he watched the boy raise a camera that was hanging around his neck, snapping pictures of the sunset that was just beginning.

Troye noticed he was wearing the same white button-up he had been wearing earlier, but now it was untucked and flowing around his hips. It was a quarter till seven and Troye assumed he had just gotten off of work, making his way to the beach that was empty because everyone was already at dinner, in order to catch a sunset that he’d probably seen a thousand times.

He watched the boy for what felt like several minutes, fascinated by his concentration, the way he would hold his body at a certain angle just to capture a shot, how his feathery hair was ruffled from the breeze.

Troye should’ve been embarrassed when green eyes turned to meet his, as if they had felt the prickle of his eyes on the back of his neck this whole time. Troye thought for a moment that maybe he should’ve looked away, should have been ashamed that he had been caught blatantly staring, but he wasn’t. He just flicked ashes onto the ground and brought the cigarette back up to his lips to inhale, not once breaking eye contact with the boy by the water.

Troye watched as a small smile spread across the other boy’s lips, taking a second before heading in his direction. Troye didn’t move, just continued to watch until the other boy was a few feet in front of him, stopping to raise his camera and snap a photo of Troye—one arm across his stomach, his elbow resting in his palm as he dangled the cigarette between his fingers, letting out another exhale of smoke.

Once he was satisfied with the shots he got, the other boy moved closer, reaching out a hand to pluck the cigarette from where it had made its way back between Troye’s lips. “This is gross,” he said, dropping the cigarette onto the ground and stamping it out with his foot.

Troye didn’t even argue, purely fascinated by this boy in front of him as he watched him pick the cigarette butt off of the ground and toss it with care into a nearby trash can.

Once he was done, the green-eyed boy looked over to him, running his eyes over his figure and raising a questioning eyebrow, the slight smirk never once leaving his lips, “You going somewhere?” he asked.

Troye let his hand fall to his side from where it had still been hanging as if the cigarette had never been taken away. “Was supposed to be going to dinner, but—“ he answered before hesitating, unsure of how much he needed to share with this boy he barely knew.

“But your boyfriend got another phone call?” Connor finished for him, the smirk on his lips transitioning into a much softer smile.

Troye tilted his head at that response, lips curling up into a smile as he realized this boy had been watching him more than he had initially thought. “Yeah, yeah he did,” he answered, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting the truth. He was so used to putting up a front about his relationship that he found it exceedingly refreshing to finally be honest with someone about it.   
  
“What’s your name?” the green-eyed boy asked.

Troye could feel his eyebrows furrowing in surprised confusion, before his lips opened to answer, “Troye,” he said, “Troye Sivan.” He paused, waiting for the typical reaction he knew was coming but that moment never arrived.

All he got was a genuine smile that reached all the way up to the corners of green eyes as the other boy said, “Nice to meet you, Troye.”  
  
“Wait, you’ve never heard of me?” Troye blurted out before he could stop himself.

“ _Oooo_ kay,” Connor said sarcastically with a playful roll of his eyes, head falling back in a laugh as Troye slowly processed the words that had just left his mouth.   
  
“Shit,” he paused, “Did I actually just say that?” He frowned, the gears in his head working through how gross the assumption was that everyone would somehow know who he was. “What the fuck’s happened to me?” he let out quietly, more to himself than anything, face falling as the realization took hold.

Connor noticed. He noticed the crestfallen look on his face, the crease on his forehead that showed he was waging a war within himself, and he reached out a hand to place on his shoulder.

Troye looked up, surprised to be met with a sincere smile and sparkling eyes as Connor spoke, “I see and hear it all here. You’d be surprised how quickly people get wrapped up in this—this _life_ —and just lose themselves in it all.”

Troye managed a soft smile, somehow taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone and before he could stop himself more words were spilling from his mouth, “I don’t want to be like that though. To get caught up in this mess, become something I’m not,” he paused, “I don’t want to lose myself.”

“Then don’t,” Connor responded with a simple shrug, letting his hand drop from Troye’s shoulder as his gaze shifted to the sun that was now truly starting to set.

Troye stared at the boy beside him for a moment, letting that simple phrase wash over him. _Then don’t_. Was it really as easy as this boy made it out to be? He shifted his gaze, following Connor’s line of sight out to the sunset, savoring the peaceful feeling the moment was bringing him.

“You never told me your name,” Troye said after a moment, tearing his gaze away from the sun in order to glance at the boy standing next to him.   
  
“Oh?” Connor asked with mock surprise, eyes shifting over to him without turning his head, eyebrow quirking up, “You don’t recognize me?” he teased, finally moving to look at Troye more fully.

Troye could feel the way his lips spread into a wide grin, a loud laugh escaping his throat, “Fuck off,” he said, laughter lacing every word as he playfully pushed the other boy’s shoulder.

Green eyes continued to smile at him, another bright, loud laugh falling from thin lips before he answered, “My name’s Connor. Connor Franta.”

Troye’s face settled into a more peaceful smile, watching as Connor’s eyes darted to the sunset and then back to Troye, unconsciously touching the camera hanging from his neck.

“C’mon, I wanna show you something,” he said.

\---

Troye let the cold metal door shut behind him as he followed Connor out onto the roof of the resort. The older boy glanced back at him, eyes crinkling up into a smile before he turned back around and made his way over to the edge.

Troye joined him a moment later, leaning his body against the concrete wall that enclosed the roof, eyes taking in the sight before him. They had made it at the perfect time, the sun just beginning to sink beyond the horizon.

“Wow,” Troye let out, eyes fixed on the scene before him.

“Right? This is the best spot to watch it,” Connor replied, hopping up onto the ledge and sitting with his legs crossed as he picked up his camera in order to catch a few shots.

Troye’s eyes broke away from the setting sun as he glanced over at Connor, watching the way his teeth caught onto his bottom lip as he focused on taking a picture. Troye smiled at that, lifting himself up to sit next to the other boy, close enough so that their shoulders brushed as he scrunched up his knees, wrapping his arms loosely around them.

The silence between them stretched but it was comfortable. They both watched as the sun sunk lower, listening to the sound of waves crashing on the beach below them and feeling the breeze blow through their hair. The sky changed from bright orange to a light pink, slowly turning more purple as the sun disappeared.

Troye felt calmer than he had in a long time, the simplicity of the moment pulling him away from the stress of the busy life he had been so wrapped up in. He felt like he was back home in Perth, watching the sunset in his front yard with people who mattered. His lips pulled into a slight frown, uncomfortable at the way his chest ached when he realized how long it had been since he’d done that. But before he knew it, the sun was gone, leaving nothing but the clouds and a pinkish-purple sky hanging over their heads.

“Never gets old,” Connor finally said, and Troye shifted his eyes to look at him, watching as he pulled a silver flask from his pocket, opening it and taking a sip, flinching slightly from the burn of the alcohol on his tongue. He wordlessly offered the flask to Troye, who hesitated for only a second before taking it, letting the alcohol burn past his lips and down his throat.

“Drinking on the job?” he asked with a smirk, passing the flask back.  
  
“I’m a _bartender_ , Troye,” Connor answered with a laugh, which seemed to echo through the evening sky, “You never told me what you do, by the way.”

“I’m a singer,” Troye answered, feeling the way his lips automatically curled into a smile at the words. Despite everything, he still couldn’t believe he was doing what he had wanted to do ever since he was a little kid, and the thought never failed to make him smile.

“And you smoke?” Connor’s judgmental voice snapped him out of his reverie. Blue eyes shot over to him but they softened when Troye noticed the playful sparkle in those green eyes.

Troye laughed, looking away again and back out to the ocean, “Yeah,” was his simple answer. He knew the habit was stupid and he hated it. If you had asked him a year ago if he’d ever smoke, he would’ve looked at whoever asked with disgust. But over time things had changed and it had gotten harder to say no. It had gotten harder to do what he wanted and easier to give in to what others suggested. Things went from simple to complicated so quickly and Troye felt like if he couldn’t keep up, he wouldn’t be able to succeed. So, he did what he felt like he needed to do in order to make it in a washed up industry based on who you know and how interesting you can manage to be.

He ran a hand through his hair, resting an elbow on his knee as he turned to look over at Connor, his temple resting in the palm of his hand, “How’d you end up here, Connor?”

“End up as a bartender at a resort?” he asked, “You mean, what did I actually want to do with my life?” he laughed.

Troye frowned at that answer. “Shit, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I—,” he started.

“No, it’s a good question,” Connor stopped him with a smile, “I wanted to be a photographer,” he continued, looking down happily at the camera that was sitting in his lap.

“Wanted?” Troye questioned.  
  
“Well, no. I still do, but bartending pays better than freelance photography and I’ve got student debt chasing me down so,” he smiled, another laugh echoing around them.

Troye smiled, watching this boy beside him with pure fascination. His laugh was so bright. Every time he said something that could be twisted into something negative he somehow managed to laugh it off and lighten it up. It was as if nothing could really bother him because sunsets existed and he had a method of capturing them, and if that could happen, everything else would probably turn out all right. Troye smiled at that thought, taking another sip of alcohol as the flask was continuously passed between them, before pressing on, “But how did you end up _here_? In Hawaii?” he asked.

“I figured if I was just going off to be a bartender somewhere I might as well do it someplace beautiful,” was Connor’s simple answer.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Wow,” Troye laughed.

“What?” Connor smiled in response.

“You make everything sound so simple, I just—,” he paused.

“I mean, it’s not,” Connor answered honestly, taking a drink, “But there’s no point dwelling on things. What’s the point of stressing too much about the future or the past when there could be something beautiful happening right now—right in front of you? If you get too hung up on what will be or what should have been, your whole life might pass you by. There’s _so much_ to be said for the present, it’s highly underrated, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I know, ‘live in the moment’ or whatever,” Troye said with a laugh, making air quotations around the phrase and rolling his eyes.

“ _No_ ,” Connor smiled, knocking his shoulder into the younger boy’s, “Appreciate what you’ve got when you’ve got it.”

Troye quirked his head to the side, letting those words wash over him. He envied Connor’s outlook on life—it seemed simple, effortless almost.

Troye couldn’t remember what it was like for things to seem simple. He couldn’t remember waking up not worried about the future—not stressed about what he was doing or where he was going. Every day felt like a chore and it seemed like he was constantly planning out his next move rather than focusing on what was happening to him right now.

At some point, he had stopped taking the time to enjoy the little things—to relish in all of the unique experiences he had been given—and he hadn’t noticed. He had gone so long pretending to be something he wasn’t that he became a person he had never wanted to be. He had become so absorbed in the fame and the industry, constantly focused on making the right move for his career that his worst fear had come true—he’d lost himself.

Yet in this moment—sitting on a rooftop next to a beautiful boy with kind eyes and a soft smile, watching a stunning sunset and feeling the warmth of cheap alcohol rushing through his veins—he felt entirely happy.

They talked for hours. Troye learned about Connor’s life; where he grew up, his family, what college was like for him. He laughed at the other boy’s obsession with coffee and smiled softly at the way his eyes lit up the minute he started talking about something he loved.

Troye loved the way Connor seemed to find art in everything he did. The way he talked about framing a photo—the way an image would catch his eyes and how he would have to focus on just the right aspects of it. The details most other people would never notice he somehow brought to life.

Troye could’ve listened to him talk for hours, and he did, but the green-eyed boy wasn’t going to let him get away without sharing anything of his own. So Troye talked about music, focusing on the way writing and performing made him feel, avoiding the celebrity aspect of it all. It felt nice, to not have to say things as if he were saying them to the media. He felt like he could be honest and it took him back a few years to when everything was first starting out and the music felt raw and real.

Troye talked about his family too, his home in Perth and his chubby little dog that he hadn’t seen in ages. He talked about his hobbies beyond music, things he didn’t really get the chance to do anymore. The strangest thing about it all was that he was being completely honest. He didn’t lie like he normally would have about the last time he’d seen his family or about how he couldn’t remember the last time he did something that wasn’t related to work. He just told the truth, and Connor listened and he understood.

At some point they had both fallen onto their backs, staring up at the stars that were now shining in the pitch black sky. The flask was lying empty by Connor’s side as the alcohol warmed their cheeks, brains muddled and completely having lost track of the time. Troye could feel the way his heart quickened every time Connor looked over at him and laughed. One hand was lying on his stomach and the other one was pointing at the sky, drawing their own pictures in the stars without regard for the constellations. It was silly and stupid but Troye laughed every time Connor said he could see the shape of a cat.

It had to be nearing ten o’clock, any remnants of the sun completely gone with the only light illuminating the roof being that of the moon hanging in the sky and those from the resort reflecting back up at them. Troye didn’t know when but at some point he had stopped looking at the stars, eyes focused completely on the boy next to him, who was going on about the stars above them.

“It’s kind of a beautiful thought, isn’t it? Any one of these stars we’re looking at could have burnt out years ago but even though it’s gone, we’re still seeing it. We could be seeing it for years. Even though it doesn’t exist anymore, it still lives on,” he said, a small contented smile spreading over his lips at the thought.

“Isn’t that kind of sad though?” Troye asked after a moment, not bothering to look back up at the stars, eyes still wandering over Connor’s face, taking in the way his eyes were searching the sky and how his thin lips were curved upwards, “It’s gone but we’re under this illusion that it ‘s still there, until one day it isn’t. It just— suddenly disappears without any sort of warning. And what’s worse is that you might not even realize that it was never really there, you’re just—left wondering what went wrong.”

Connor finally broke away from the sky at that, green eyes catching blue ones and holding their gaze, that comfortable smile not once leaving his face, “Just cause it’s sad doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.”

They were impossibly close. Troye could practically feel the breath ghosting across his lips and he could count the few freckles that were scattered across Connor’s face, emphasizing his high cheekbones and strong jawline.

The moment may have lasted for less than a minute but it felt like it could have stretched for hours. Blue eyes only broke away from green once in order to glance down at a set of thin, pink lips. Troye was about to lean in, to capture them with his own, but before he could Connor was sitting up. It took Troye’s intoxicated brain a moment to figure out what was happening until Connor was hopping off the ledge and back onto the rooftop.

“Want to know another employee perk?” he asked, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

Troye sat up, turning his body to face him and raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Come on,” Connor said, reaching out a hand to help him down.

“Okay,” Troye said a little uneasily albeit curiously, taking the older boy’s hand and hopping down to the concrete.

Connor offered him one of his comforting smiles, not letting go of his hand as he led him towards the door.

\---

A few minutes later they were standing in front of a locked gate leading to one of the smaller pools that had already been closed for the night. At this point, most people were at a late dinner, off getting drinks, or enjoying various forms of entertainment on the other side of the resort. This left them alone in the relative darkness, with only the sound of Connor’s keys as they undid the lock and the faint echo of waves crashing against the beach.

“Exclusive late night pool access,” the older boy said in a hushed voice, stifling a laugh as he pushed open the gate. Troye followed before walking past him, Connor turning to lock the gate back up.

“Can’t you get fired for this?” Troye asked with a quiet laugh, walking further into the pool area before stopping, eyes scanning the dimly lit place before he turned back to look at Connor.  
  
There was a playful glint in the other boy’s eyes and Troye felt the corner of his lip pull up into a smile. “Absolutely,” Connor said, setting his camera gently underneath a lounge chair before kicking off his shoes. He began to unbutton the shirt on his chest without any sort of hesitation, tossing it onto a nearby chair once he was done.

Troye took the time to run his eyes over the newly exposed skin—taking in every stray freckle, his flat stomach, and the way his torso was lightly sculpted without being too defined.

Blue eyes widened slightly as he watched the other boy’s hands move to the waistband of his pants, popping the button before hooking his fingers at the waist and pushing both them and his boxers to the ground.

Troye could feel his jaw unintentionally drop at Connor’s audacity, eyes following as he quickly slipped into the pool before Troye could really process what had just happened. Although, he did move slow enough for Troye to appreciate the fact he had a great ass before it disappeared beneath the water.

Troye just stood there, momentarily stunned by what he had just witnessed before Connor’s voice was pulling him back down to reality. He had swam up to the side of the pool after taking a quick dip under, one arm resting on the ledge while the other combed through the wet hair on his head, pushing it off of his forehead, that playful smile still dancing across his face, “Are you gonna come in?” he asked, with a slight tilt of his head, his other arm coming down to rest along the ledge as well.

Troye didn’t bother with a verbal response, quickly sliding his unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders and pulling the t-shirt up and over his thin frame. He was highly aware that the boy in the pool wasn’t taking his eyes off of him as thin fingers moved to undo the button on his pants, slipping off his shoes before he pushed the material, along with his briefs, off of skinny hips. He looked up, eyes connecting with Connor’s as he stood there for a moment, the other boy breaking their gaze to run his eyes appreciatively and shamelessly over Troye’s figure before returning again to blue with a smile as he turned to swim away.

Troye just rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he slipped into the pool a second later. He sighed at the feeling of the warm water rushing over his body, closing his eyes for a moment as he soaked up how comfortable he felt.

He opened them a minute later to find Connor in front of him, hands skimming absentmindedly over the top of the water.

“Do you do this often?” Troye asked, the other boy raising an eyebrow at his question.   
  
“Break into the hotel pool and go for a dip?” Connor asked, “Sometimes,” he shrugged, before adding, that glint coming back to his eyes, “But skinny dipping with a cute boy? Not nearly as often.”

Troye laughed at that, playfully flicking water at the other boy’s face, which earned him a much bigger splash back.

“Hey, watch it. Not the hair,” Troye said, dodging out of the way, his back bumping up against the pool wall.

“ _Oh no_ ,” Connor grinned, moving closer to the younger boy so he could reach out a hand and run it through the chocolate curls on his head, “Anything but the hair.”

Troye felt the breath catch in his throat, Connor’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder momentarily before moving down his arm, green eyes watching the movement of his own fingers while blue ones were trained on the face in front of him.

“What about you?” Connor finally asked, “You must do stuff like this all the time.”

Troye noticed that he looked a little nervous for once, the confident smile that had been on his face the majority of the time momentarily faltering. This whole night Connor had seemed rather bold—so sure of himself and everything he had been doing. This was the first time Troye had seen any doubt cross over his face.

“Never,” Troye answered honestly, managing to put emphasis on the word even though his voice had gotten perceptibly more quiet. He didn’t want Connor to think that this was something typical for him, because it wasn’t—it had been anything but that.

Connor’s eyes finally looked back up to meet Troye’s. They were so close Troye could practically see the question swimming in their depths. This whole evening had been unexpected for the both of them but there was no denying the connection they’d been feeling from the moment their eyes met across the bar earlier that day.

There was no question in his mind; Troye knew exactly what he needed to do.

His hand reached out to cup the back of Connor’s neck, fingers running through the short strands of hair there before he pulled their lips together.

He let his eyes fall closed, feeling the other boy’s body relax against his own, their chests coming together. Troye brought his other hand up to join the first, holding Connor’s head in place as he felt the mouth beneath him open, allowing his tongue to slide easily inside.

Connor’s hands had come to rest on his hips, gripping them tightly as the intensity of their kiss increased. He pulled his lips away, trailing kisses along Troye’s jaw before moving to his neck.

“Fuck,” Troye murmured, letting his head fall back, eyes still closed as he absorbed the intoxicating feeling of Connor’s lips on his skin. He moved his hands down a set of broad shoulders, pulling the boy even closer, a soft gasp falling from his lips when he felt Connor’s leg come between his own.

Blue eyes flashed open when he felt Connor’s hard length pressing against his thigh, moving a hand to his cheek so he could catch those lips in another heated kiss as his eyes slipped closed again, his other hand sliding from Connor’s back to his stomach before making its way downwards.

Not even a second later there was the loud clanging of someone unlocking the gate to the pool. Both eyes flashed open, meeting each other with a look of panic as their lips pulled away to both simultaneously let out a quiet, “Fuck!”

Their soft laughter was lacing the air as Connor quickly pushed himself out of the pool, reaching out a hand to pull Troye with him. Connor hastily picked up their clothes and tossed them underneath a chair with the hope they wouldn’t be noticed as he tugged Troye into a small alcove in the wall where all of the towels were kept.

Troye was pressed up against the wall, the soft towels against his back a striking contrast to the hard chest that was flush against his own. They were so close he could feel Connor’s heartbeat racing just as quickly as his own, the adrenaline rushing through their veins.

“Shit, I forgot what time they do rounds,” Connor said quietly, but there was laughter playing in his eyes as his shifted his gaze from where they had been peeking around the corner to look at Troye again.

Troye was practically shaking with laughter, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stifle the sound.  
  
“Shhhh,” Connor said, but he was laughing too as he placed a finger to the younger boy’s lips.

Their cheeks were flushed and their chests were heaving from both the adrenaline and the laughter they had been trying to contain. When their eyes met, Troye felt his breath catch in his throat again, effectively silencing his laughter.

They were impossibly still, Connor looking away again as he strained to hear whether the person checking the pool had left yet or not. A second later, the sound of the gate could be heard again and the tension immediately dropped from Connor’s shoulders.

He brought his gaze back to Troye’s, biting his bottom lip as he tried to hold back a smile. He moved his finger from where it had still been resting on Troye’s lips in order to trace his hand down to his chin, before ghosting across his jaw.

There was a different sort of tension in the air now, and it was the reason Troye’s heart rate hadn’t slowed down despite the fact that the fear of being caught was no longer there.

This time it was Connor who was pulling him into a kiss, strong hands moving to tangle in the back of his curls. Troye’s hands were moving down his side, feeling the heat from his skin and the tightness of his muscles. There was no room for space between them, bodies completely flush against one another. He heard Connor release a groan at the feeling, their tongues dancing and exploring.

Troye had never felt anything like this. His skin practically burned at Connor’s touch as his hands grazed over his sides. There was a spark in his chest every time their eyes connected, and Troye knew it wasn’t the alcohol that was making him feel dizzy every time their lips touched.

He let his nails rake across the older boy’s hips, hands moving towards what they had been reaching for in the pool before they were interrupted. Thin fingers wrapped around Connor’s length, which was back at full attention despite the shock from earlier.

“Shit,” Connor groaned out at the touch, lips pulling away and head falling against Troye’s shoulder as the younger boy squeezed him in his hands, drawing his palm up and down.

Troye moved his lips to Connor’s shoulder, occasionally pressing gentle kisses but sometimes raking his teeth along the skin as he moved his hand progressively faster up and down.

Connor moaned when Troye moved his palm over the head of his cock, but a second later he was pushing against his chest. “Stop, we can’t,” he said.

Troye moved his hand off of him as the other boy pulled away, confusion evident in his face.

“You have a boyfriend,” Connor clarified when he caught the look in Troye’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Troye said, those words crashing over him like a wave.

They didn’t sound real because they didn’t feel real. _This_ felt real.

Troye acknowledged a momentary feeling of guilt that was quickly washed away. What he had with Alex was nothing compared to this. Their relationship was all for show, and even though they didn’t necessarily verbalize that, it was an underlying tone in everything they did.

Troye hadn’t realized until tonight how much of a toll that was taking on him. The façade he was putting on every day was draining him. But Connor. Connor was the spark that lit the fire, a surge for all of the feelings he had been lacking.

Connor’s voice pulled him out of his head and he realized that the other boy had moved away, out of the alcove. “This was fun,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Troye followed him as he moved over to their clothes, tossing Troye’s over to him as he pulled on his own.

“Yeah— yeah, this was fun,” Troye said after a quiet moment, “Thank you, Connor.”

“Thank you?” Connor laughed, raising an eyebrow at him as he buttoned up his shirt.

“Yeah, this was the first time I’ve felt like myself in awhile.”

Connor just smiled at that. “C’mon,” he said, nodding his head towards the gate before they headed back to the resort.

They walked back in silence; it was comfortable but there was a quiet charge emanating between the two of them now. When they got closer to the resort, Connor stopped, glancing somewhat nervously over at Troye before looking away. “I’m this way,” he said, waving his hand in the opposite direction towards where the employee apartments were.

“Okay,” Troye said quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.

When Connor turned to walk away, Troye made a last minute decision, reaching out a hand to catch the other boy’s arm. He pulled him in, letting his lips fall over Connor’s one final time.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and although it only lasted for a second Troye felt like the moment could have stretched on for years.

He pulled away, blue catching green and the hand that was still on Connor’s arm giving it a squeeze before he turned to walk away, heading back to his room.

\---

Troye found himself in the lobby of the hotel the next morning, resting his shoulder up against the wall with his suitcase resting near his feet as he watched a boy with wavy hair falling over green eyes making a drink behind the bar.

He was wearing another crisp white button-up shirt, but since he was working inside the lounge today a skinny black tie adorned his neck. Troye, on the other hand, was in a simple white t-shirt and ripped black jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t worried about what to wear, but today was different. Today, he finally felt like he was doing something that he wanted—like he had finally regained control over his own life.

Troye stood there for a good ten minutes, watching as the other boy kept himself busy. There weren’t that many people milling about yet, only a few stopping by the bar for their morning mimosas before heading off to breakfast.

Connor was wiping down the bar for probably the fifteenth time when he finally looked up, his eyes catching Troye’s and the small smile that was playing across his lips. Green eyes widened a bit with surprise, before darting down to notice the suitcase by Troye’s feet, one eyebrow raising in confusion.

Troye felt the smile on his face widen, taking his suitcase and heading over to the bar.

“I didn’t realize your trip was basically over,” Connor said once Troye had reached him.

Troye folded his arms over the counter, leaning against it as he continued to smile at Connor. He quirked his head, the curls on his forehead falling to the side as he took in the way Connor’s eyes fell when he spoke—how he looked a little sad that he thought Troye was headed to the airport.

“It’s not,” Troye clarified, “I just extended it for another week, actually. I think the time off has been good for me.”

The crease on Connor’s forehead deepened, a small frown pulling at the corner of his lips, “Then why are you standing here with your suitcase?”

“I switched rooms,” Troye answered simply with a light shrug of his shoulder.

The look of confusion on Connor’s face didn’t fade and Troye wanted to laugh— _he just wasn’t getting it._

“Why?” Connor asked, “What was wrong with the room you were in?”

Troye bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back the large grin that was threatening to take over his face, “I didn’t really want to spend the rest of my vacation in the same room as my ex-boyfriend.”

There was a small part of Troye that was telling him he should have at least felt a little sad about ending his relationship, but the more logical side of his brain was telling him that it had been a long time coming. What he and Alex had wasn’t real; it was an act. Everything they did was to get ahead and while it had been fun for awhile, it had become more of a burden than anything. And after last night, Troye didn’t want to put on a mask anymore.

Connor looked shocked at Troye’s last statement, mouth falling open in genuine surprise. He quickly pulled himself together, lips shutting to form a sly smirk and green eyes relaxing enough to get back their usual spark.

“Was I that good?” the older boy teased.

Troye laughed, and he loved the way it made any of the residual nervousness he was feeling completely melt away, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

There was a stretch of silence and Troye’s eyes shifted from being playful to more sincere, his smirk fading into a soft smile.

“Last night was—,” Troye started before he paused, trying to find the right words, “I don’t know what last night was, honestly, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that much, or felt like—I don’t know— _good_ about who I am and what I wanted to do,” he paused again, taking a moment to try and read the boy in front of him, without much success.

He could feel his heart rate starting to increase, looking down at the bar and away from the other boy as the nerves that had faded earlier slowly climbed their way back into his chest. He took a deep breath, before letting the words just tumble out, “I had _butterflies_ , I—,” he laughed, “I haven’t felt that way about anything— _anyone_ —in a really long time. Maybe not ever,” he admitted, his voice getting noticeably quieter as he finally looked back up to meet Connor’s eyes, “I figured I’d be an idiot to pass that up and stay with someone who was making me miserable, so. I decided to take a risk—appreciate what I’ve got in front of me.”

“Do you think it was worth it?” Connor asked, a serious tone to his voice, but he was smiling.

“You’ll have to tell me,” Troye said, confidence coming back into his voice as he leaned his body over the bar, long fingers wrapping around Connor’s tie to gently tug him closer, lips connecting.

The kiss was brief and by the time Troye pulled away Connor was still staring at him with a shocked look on his face, eyes wide.

“Let me know when you get off,” Troye said, pulling a card with his room number on it from his pocket and sliding it across the bar, “I wanna take you to dinner, or—go back to the beach, or something,” he hesitated, suddenly feeling nervous again before adding, “I don’t want this to be just last night.”

Troye turned around without waiting for a response, hand grasping his suitcase as he began to walk away. A few heartbeats later, he heard a clear voice ring out behind him, “I get off at eight. I’ll see you then.”

Troye couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile that spread over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Hello? Sorry this was such a long time in the making? Hope you liked it and this time it shouldn’t have made you cry so.
> 
> Shout out to literally ALL of my friends, I swear everyone contributed to this idea at some point or another so tysm honestly.
> 
> Also, thank YOU GUYS for reading and sticking around. You all are truly the best.
> 
> OK, LEAVE ME SOME COMMENTS, BYE. –xx Angela


	9. HEAVEN

Troye was watching the boy next to him carefully, blue eyes scanning him as fingers played loosely with the hand held within his own. They had been like this for a few hours, just laying on Connor’s bed talking about life. It was something they had done for as long as he could remember.

They’d met in elementary school. Troye had been the new boy in class, having just moved from Australia only a week before, and Connor was the quiet boy in the corner, green eyes shy and looking down at the ground. From the moment Troye had sat down next to him and pulled those eyes up to his own with a warm hello and a bright smile, the two had practically been inseparable. Since then, it had become part of their routine to go over to each other’s houses after school a few times a week. First they’d lie on the bed and talk about anything and everything—school, family, random thoughts they had cross their mind throughout the day. Then they would attempt to do homework, but somehow would always end up distracted by whatever new song or artist Connor had decided Troye should listen to that day.

As time went on, things changed but also somehow managed to stay exactly the same. While everything around them in their lives was shifting, they had been each other’s constants. With time they grew up and got closer, and only recently did it become something more.

One quiet evening they were sitting on the edge of Troye’s bed. The silence stretched between them in a way that was comfortable, not strained. There was no pressure to say anything or do anything. No pressure to be anything more than what they happened to be in that moment. Their shoulders were just barely touching and their eyes were set on the window, taking in the grey sky outside, ears tuned to the sound of rain pattering against the glass.

Troye could remember that moment like it was yesterday. He couldn’t recall what they had been saying just before it happened, but he remembered everything else in striking detail. The quiet tension, the comfortable silence, the way he could practically feel Connor’s eyes on his lips when he finally turned to look at him.

_And that feeling._ That feeling when Connor finally leaned and he felt those lips pressed up against his own. The way he hesitated and almost pulled away, but how he didn’t. Troye could never forget any of that.

So things changed but they stayed the same.

They didn’t label anything. Troye had come out to his friends and family before that first kiss had happened, but Connor was still questioning everything. He wasn’t there yet and that was okay. They talked about it but they tried not to worry too much. Sometimes that worked and sometimes it didn’t. Despite it all, it made them happy.

They had grown to know each other so well that Troye always knew when Connor was overthinking; he could see it etched in every line on his face. He had been thinking a lot lately and he was doing it again right now. His forehead was creased and the corners of his mouth were pulled into a slight frown. He was worried about an upcoming test, balancing that with swim practice and a project in his photography class. Connor had always cared more about school than Troye did. So he smiled and listened, drawing circles on the back of his hands, occasionally letting their fingers weave together.

“I don’t know when I’m going to find the time to study for it, y’know? Swim meets take forever. I’m always there all night,” Connor rambled. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, his mind clearly trying to piece together a plan of how to make it all work.

“Like, I _have_ to do well on this exam,” he continued and Troye just hummed in agreement. He was lying on his side, elbow on the bed and his head propped up in his hand, blue eyes watching the space between them where their hands were tangled together.

“You’ll be fine. You’re smart, Con,” Troye said, eyes moving up in order to finally land on the other boy’s concerned face.

“No, you don’t get it. Like, I _can’t_ get a B on this test,” he said, green eyes shifting over to meet blue.

Troye couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him when he saw the serious look on Connor’s face as he said that sentence, as if getting anything less than perfect on an exam would be the end of the world.

“Connor,” Troye laughed with a slight shake of his head.

“Hey, I’m _serious_. I don’t want to ruin my GPA for something so—,” the other boy started, but he was cut off by Troye’s lips falling over his own.

He couldn’t help it. Connor just looked so damn cute when he was flustered and worrying about silly things.

Troye leaned into him and he could feel the way the tension dispersed from Connor’s body the minute they touched. He pulled his lips away for a moment in order to smile down at him, blue eyes sparkling with affection as Connor rolled his eyes and laughed, before he pulled them back together and they were kissing again.

Their kisses were soft and slow. Lips only slightly parted, lingering longer than they needed to, an occasional tongue swiping over a bottom lip or dipping past teeth. Nothing too serious, nothing too intense. Just calm, comforting, and warm.

They were so lost in the moment, so at ease with one another, that they didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs or the creak of hinges as Connor’s dad pushed open the cracked door.

They didn’t notice until it was too late and Peter was already in the room, stopping in his tracks and halting mid-sentence as he noticed the two boys on the bed.

“Connor—” he started, the word barely leaving his mouth before Troye was pulling away from the boy beneath him faster than he would have thought possible. His heart rate instantly intensified, wide blue eyes flashing up to see Connor’s dad standing just inside the door, a look of shock on his face.

A nearly inaudible, “Shit,” fell past his lips at almost the same time Connor let out a panicked, “Dad!” as he sat up as quickly as he could.

Troye shifted his gaze from Peter back to Connor, taking in his wide green eyes and the way his face had noticeably drained of color. He could practically feel the tension in the room. The silence was uncomfortably loud and the pounding of his heart had made it all the way up to his ears.  
  
“What is going on?” Peter’s voice rang out across the room, sounding harsh compared to the shocked silence that was thickening the air around them.

“Dad, I—” Connor started, his voice shaky.

Peter tore his gaze away from his son in order to look at Troye, the initial surprise draining from his eyes in order to be replaced by a harder look, “Troye, you should go,” he said, cutting Connor off. His voice was firm, and not necessarily angry, but it still somehow managed to make Troye feel like ice had been poured into his lungs.

Troye stared at the older man blankly, his heart pounding in his chest and the words he should’ve been saying sticking in his throat. Blue eyes quickly moved back to find green ones, searching them for something, _anything,_ that would tell him what to do in this moment.

Connor held his gaze for only a second before casting his eyes down to the ground, finally pulling his hand out of Troye’s grip. He hadn’t even realized that he had been holding onto it this whole time, nor had he noticed how tightly he had been squeezing.  
  
“You should go,” Connor said quietly after a pause, refusing to bring his eyes back up to meet Troye’s.   
  
“Connor, are you—” Troye started, almost reaching out to touch his hand again but pausing before he got close, becoming suddenly more aware than Peter was still standing in the room.  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure. You should go,” Connor said, a little more steel to his voice this time as green eyes shot back up, a hardening expression casting over his face. The look lasted only for a second before it faltered and his eyes softened, thin lips parting to add quietly, “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

Troye bit his bottom lip, hesitating for a moment before standing up from the bed. He was unsure of what to do. The way Connor’s voice seemed to waver, how his forehead was creased with worry, the way his shoulders had visibly crumpled—all of it was making Troye think twice.

He didn’t want to leave him like this. Didn’t want to leave him alone to face an unknown situation—a situation Troye knew Connor had been afraid of for the longest time.

He glanced back over to Peter, starting to notice an edge of irritation in his demeanor, which only added to his nerves. He looked back at Connor one last time, the older boy managing to give him a short nod and a sad smile, desperation evident in his eyes.  
  
It was that look. That look of fear and panic that was lacing Connor’s eyes and only getting worse with every second Troye refused to move that finally convinced him to go. He made his way quickly out of the room and quietly out of the house, his body and mind swirling with a mix of emotions and growing concern.

\---

When Troye got home he immediately made his way into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. His mind was moving at a mile a minute, every possible situation that could be happening playing out in his head.

He sat down on the edge of his bed but got up barely a second later, electing to pace across his room instead, legs refusing to stay still and his mind refusing to slow down.

He brought a hand up to his mouth, chewing at his nails as his feet came to a halt in the middle of his room. He glanced down at his phone that he had carelessly tossed onto his desk, itching to text Connor and ask if everything was okay. But it had barely been thirty minutes and Troye was more than aware that there might not even be anything to know yet.

Troye went on like this for hours. He had finally managed to sit still and turn on the TV, but he couldn’t actually pay attention to it. A second later he would be back on his feet again, pacing throughout the room. He was constantly picking up his phone to check it, even though he had the volume on as loud as it could go and he knew would’ve heard it if Connor had called or texted.

Eventually it was evening. The sun was long gone and Troye was sitting at his desk, trying to finish his homework that was due the next day, but with only minimal success. The page was blank except for a few scribbled out numbers and the pencil he was holding was covered in marks from where he had nervously been chewing on it the whole time.

At 10:43PM his phone rang and the way the loud sound resonated throughout the room made him jump. His mind, which had started to feel blurry, now came back into sharp focus. A quick hand darted out to grab the device and upon seeing Connor’s name flashing on the screen, he quickly answered.  
  
“Hey,” Troye breathed out, the minute he had the phone up to his ear.  
  
“Troye,” Connor immediately let out, and his voice cracked, causing the younger boy to sit up straight in his chair.  
  
“What’s going on? What happened?” Troye asked, worry etching every word that left his mouth.

“They’re…” Connor started, but stopped, his voice wavering, “It was fine. I mean, not fine. But it was _okay,_ at first.”

Connor paused, and Troye could hear him take a shaky breath through the phone as he waited patiently for him to continue. The words came spilling out a moment later, all rushed and jumbled, “They were so disappointed, Troye. The way they were _looking_ at me. It was like they didn’t know me. And I didn’t know what to say, or do and—.”

There was another long pause and the next time Connor spoke, his voice cracked again, and Troye knew he was crying, “And then they said that maybe I shouldn’t see you for awhile and I lost it, Troye. I lost it. And I just went off, I don’t even know half of what I said, I was just so— _angry_ and scared. And then they—they _kicked me out_ , _Troye_. They told me to leave if I was going to act that way and I—,”

“Shit, Connor. Where are you?” Troye said, effectively cutting him off. His heart was racing, having steadily increased in his chest as the conversation played out and he began to realize how serious this actually was.  
  
“I—I don’t know. I just, threw some shit together and I left. I just kept walking,” Connor said, sounding completely defeated, “I haven’t gotten far. I’m just a few houses down from mine, I think. I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t move, okay?” Troye said, voice sounding firm, “I’m coming to get you.”

\---

It was only ten minutes later that Troye was driving down Connor’s street, eyes trained on the sidewalk as he tried desperately to spot that familiar silhouette standing out against the night sky. He saw him only moments later, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, fiddling with his hands, a duffle bag resting beside him.

Green eyes looked up as soon as they saw the headlights drawing close, and he stood just as Troye pulled his car beside him. He opened the back door, tossing his bag carelessly inside before sliding himself into the passenger seat.

Troye watched him carefully the whole time, not moving the car even after Connor had buckled his seatbelt, staring out the windshield and patiently waiting for Troye to drive them away.

The silence stretched for longer than it should have before Troye spoke, “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly.

Connor paused, eyes breaking away from the window to stare down at the hands that were folded neatly in his lap, “No, I—no. Not now,” he answered, “I just wanna get out of here, okay?”

Green eyes shifted over to meet blue ones and the minute they connected Troye could see what Connor was going through—it was written on every line of his face. His eyes were earnest as they looked at Troye, but somehow managed to be desperate at the same time, pleading for him to drive away from his house, from this situation, as quickly as he could. His brows were creased in a way that was sad but also worried, and Troye could tell he couldn’t stop playing the conversation he had with his parents over and over again in his head. His thin lips were pulled into a tight line and his hair was messy from constantly running his hands through it, and Troye didn’t know what to do except for reach a hand out to take hold of the one still sitting in Connor’s lap.

“Where do you want to go?” Troye asked softly, “We can go back to my house, you know my parents won’t care—.”

“No!” Connor said, cutting him off, panic evident on his face and in his voice at the thought of facing anyone else right now, of having to explain any of this to them, “No, I just. Don’t want to talk to anybody else right now. If that’s okay?” he said, voice much quieter this time, eyes softening as they shifted down to where Troye was holding his hand.

“No, no. I get it. It’s fine,” Troye said, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, trying to convey through the look on his face and the tone of his voice that he would do whatever Connor needed right now, “Did you have a place in mind?”

There was another long stretch of silence and Troye waited patiently for an answer, although he would be lying if he said his concern for the other boy wasn’t growing by the second. Maybe this was worse than he thought.

“You know that park by your house?” Connor said, breaking the silence and looking back up to meet Troye’s eyes again.

“The one we always used to go to when we were little?" Troye said. He knew it well, they had both spent so much time there with one another, and even though they hadn’t been there in a long time, it still felt familiar.

“Yeah,” Connor said, with a small nod, “Can we go there?”

“Yeah,” Troye said with a nod of his own, shifting the car back into drive before pulling away from the curb.

He didn’t let go of Connor’s hand the whole time.

\---

They arrived at the park not much later, the area dimly lit by streetlights and the sliver of moon that was shining overhead. Connor let go of Troye’s hand the moment the car stopped and immediately got out. Troye followed suit, walking over to the opposite side of the car where Connor had stopped on the edge of the gravel, staring at the swing set they used to play on when they were kids.

Troye wanted to hug him. More than anything he wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around those shoulders and hold him close. To run his hands through that hair and press a kiss to his temple—to tell him that everything would be okay. But he hesitated, because he didn’t know if everything would be okay and he didn’t know where he stood right now. He didn’t know what was okay and what wasn’t. So instead he placed a hand on the older boy’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as Connor looked back at him, offering a small smile that was more sad than anything else.

“C’mon,” Troye said, nodding towards the swing set they’d spent endless summer days on when they were younger, always having a competition over who could get higher or jump farther.

Once they got there Connor sat down on one of the swings, rocking it slightly as both hands held onto the chains above his head, his eyes directed towards his feet which were aimlessly kicking the gravel on the ground. Troye took a seat in the swing next to him, both hands gripping the chain closest to Connor, his body angled towards him as he watched the older boy become lost in his own thoughts.

The silence practically echoed around them, amplifying the sound of crickets chirping and the occasional gust of wind breezing through the trees that was causing the other swings around them to creak.

“What’re you thinking right now?” Troye asked, his voice softer than it needed to be.

“I don’t know....Just about, everything? I guess,” Connor started before pausing, his voice sounding strained again, much like it had on the phone earlier, “Everything is just a mess. I—” he cut off, not knowing what else to say, and Troye could see him start to get lost in his head again.

“What did your parents say, exactly?” Troye prodded gently.

“After you left…” Connor started, taking in a shaky breath, “My dad was _so_ calm, it was almost scary. He told me to go downstairs and wait and I’m guessing he went and told my mom, I don’t know what he said to her,” he shook his head and a frown pulled at his lips.

“When they came into the living room…they didn’t have to say anything—the look on her _face_. She was _so_ disappointed in me. It was like she knew, but she had hoped for so long that it wasn’t true and now—I had _finally_ disappointed her.”

“Connor…” Troye started softly but the older boy shook his head and green eyes flashed up at him, glazed over with tears.

“No, my mom, she has this whole perfect life planned out for me. She talks about it all of the time. A family, kids, a wife—” he said and Troye heard the way he practically choked on the word, noticed how his eyes immediately diverted back to the ground as he said it.

Troye felt a frown pull at the corner of his lips as he carefully watched the boy beside him. Connor had stopped moving now and was just staring down at his feet on the gravel. He looked small, much like the little kid on the swing Troye remembered he used to smile at every day. But now that little kid was older and the pressure of the world was pushing on his shoulders, weighing him down and keeping him from getting back up to where he needed to be.

After a good minute of silence, Connor’s voice broke through the quiet air again, “They weren’t even that mad, not really. It only turned into an argument when they said I shouldn’t see you and then it just all blew up. My dad said I couldn’t stay there if I was gonna be like this and I just—I needed to get out of there.

“They think this is wrong—that I’m throwing my life away,” Connor continued before pausing again, sinking back into his thoughts. Troye could see it on his face—the way his eyebrows were furrowed and how the corner of his lips were pulling further into a frown—he was back at home, thirty minutes prior, standing in front of his parents as they told him everything he had always been so afraid of.

“This—this is _hurting_ them and I don’t want it to. They don’t want this for me, they want me to be normal. I think—they think I’m broken,” Connor finally said, his voice cracking at the end, “What if they’re right?” he finished quietly, his voice barely a whisper, eyes coming up to meet Troye’s and the older boy watched as a tear fell past his cheek.

“Hey,” Troye said quietly, getting up from his swing and moving to kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands into his own. He looked down at them for a moment, noticing how different they were but how they seemed to fit together just the same.

“You’re not broken, Connor,” Troye said, connecting their gaze as he emphasized each word, “If you want _that_ life, you’ll have it. Maybe it’ll be a little different than you or your parents imagined, but you’ll get it. The house with the white picket fence, the kids, a family, a husband. You can have all of that.

“I know it might not seem possible right now. I _know_ that. But I promise you, you don’t have to give up who you are to be happy.”

The tears were coming in a more steady stream now and Troye reached up a hand in order to brush them away.

“Close your eyes,” Troye said after a minute and despite the tears on his face, Connor still managed to give him an incredulous look.

“What?” he said with a slight laugh.

“Just—close your eyes, okay? Trust me, I used to do this all the time when I would start getting into my head about dealing with this.”

Connor managed a weak smile and a shake of his head, “Okay,” he said, sounding unconvinced before letting his eyes slip closed.

“Count to fifteen,” Troye said, “ _Really_ slowly. Focus on each number and nothing else. It helps clear out all the mess that’s floating in your head right now.”

Connor gave a short nod, and Troye could see the way his eyebrows knit as he counted silently. By the time he was done and had opened his eyes to look back down at Troye, the tears had stopped, even though his eyes were still glassy.

“Did it help at all?” Troye asked hopefully and Connor nodded.

“Yeah, yeah it did,” he said, offering him a small smile.

“Good, I’m glad,” Troye said, giving his hand one last comforting squeeze before he moved to stand up, but before he got very far, Connor’s voice stopped him.

“Thank you,” he said, and for the first time that night Connor’s voice didn’t waver.

Troye smiled, standing up fully and reaching a hand out to the boy in front of him, “C’mon, let’s go home,” he said.

There was a moment where Connor hesitated, and for a second Troye was afraid that he wouldn’t take his hand. Then he felt the warmth of fingers intertwining with his own and Troye knew that with time, things would work out the way they were supposed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - SO SORRY for being a mess and this taking me forever to write. I have a ton of projects and finals coming up, but I'm going to try my best to get the rest of these oneshots to you sooner rather than later.
> 
> Also, I want to thank Dalia (waitshewrites) for gifting me this idea and coming up with lil scenes and dialogue with me. It was hella fun.
> 
> Like, comment, you know the drill. Love you and thanks for reading. -xx Angela


	10. YOUTH

“Kayla, do we really have to go to this?” Troye asked. His voice was uneasy as he stood on the sidewalk next to his best friend, shooting a quick glance in her direction as a gust of chilly night air swept through the curls on his head. His arms were crossed over the simple black t-shirt on his chest and he was wiggling his knees in nervous anticipation. _What the fuck was he doing at a frat party?_

It was a little past eleven and the sun had set long before they’d managed to leave their apartment. Kayla had spent a good portion of their earlier evening trying to convince Troye to go to this party with her. For weeks all Troye had heard about was some guy that she had been talking to and the minute he had invited her to this party she hadn’t stopped nagging Troye to go with her. He had initially refused—overcrowded parties filled with people he didn’t know had never really been his thing—but when it came down to it, it had only taken a few shots and a cute pout from his best friend to finally convince him to go.

But now that they were _here_ , standing in front of a large house with Greek letters displayed across the front with swarms of drunken people moving in and out, Troye was starting to second guess his decision to come. There were colorful lights spilling from the windows and the beat of the bass could be heard all the way from where they were standing on the sidewalk. The front yard was sprinkled with people; some were together, arms slung over shoulders or wrapped around waists, while others were alone, red solo cups in hand that they’d later toss to the ground to add to the growing collection on the lawn before going back inside to get another.

The only consistent thing Troye noticed about any of the people there was that they were _not_ the type of person he would normally find himself hanging out with. These were the people that would have made fun of him in high school, the type of people he had avoided ever since he’d left. Now that he was standing here watching it all, he was fairly certain a skinny boy with a nose ring and tight jeans was the last thing any of these people would expect to find in a fraternity house.

Yet here he was, because at some point after his fourth shot of tequila the idea of going out and dancing in a dark room full of random people had begun to seem appealing. He could still feel the tingle of alcohol in his veins and even though the walk over had cleared his head enough to allow him to start questioning his decision to come, he still felt pretty buzzed.

“Troye, it’ll be _fine_. I promise. They aren’t as bad as you think,” Kayla insisted, pulling his drunk thoughts away from his worries and back to his hopeful best friend. She really had been looking forward to this all week, and he didn’t have it in his heart to back out now. So, with that thought and a small smile, he let her take his hand within her own as she pulled him toward the front door.

Troye half-heartedly followed, gingerly stepping over the cups strewn on the ground and quickly moving out of the way of a drunk couple who were aggressively making out as they left. Troye managed to laugh at that as he was finally pulled inside, the sound of music drowning out his thoughts the minute they entered the crowded house.

“Come on! Let’s dance! I _know_ that’s the only reason you actually decided to come here,” Kayla said with a smirk, spinning around to face him before she grabbed his other hand and dragged them over to the dance floor.

Troye just laughed and gave her a shake of his head—she was right, after all.

It didn’t take much after that for him to forget his reservations about coming to this party as he let the beat of music and the warmth of the alcohol take control. He wasn’t sure when or by whom, but at some point a cup had found its way into his hand and he didn’t question it, drinking whatever unknown alcohol was in it. He danced with random people but mostly with Kayla, who had managed to obtain a drink of her own, and even though he was lost in the music he still took the time to take in everything else that was going on around him.

There were swarms of people everywhere, drinks held up in the air as they moved their bodies to the beat. There were people tucked into every corner, leaning in to be heard over the music. Or maybe it was just to get that chance to be closer—to get lost in a person in that way that always seems to happen at parties when you’re drunk and it’s loud and everything seems fresh and exciting. Everything is distracting except for that one set of eyes that keeps drawing you in and your alcohol-ridden brain can’t seem to get enough.

Throughout the whole time he was in that crowd of sweaty, dancing people Troye had his own set of eyes that he kept coming back to. They were green and they were startling and Troye knew exactly who they belonged to—the boy in his photography class who had always been so nice to him. The boy he had been shocked to see wearing Greek letters one day because he hadn’t seemed like _that_ type of person. Connor Franta, the boy he had low key been crushing on since that first day of class but had somehow managed to stifle his feelings for because he knew he was straight and it _wasn’t_ going to happen. _But_ _damn, he looked good tonight._

Connor wasn’t immersed in the crowd like Troye was; he was standing on the edge, swaying easily to the music, beer in hand, occasionally laughing and chatting with friends. He was wearing a dark blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to just before his elbows, matched with a slim pair of brown pants on his legs. Despite being on different sides of the room their eyes kept catching one another, and every time they did Troye could’ve sworn he saw those thin lips quirk up into a smile. It never failed to make his heart jump into his throat.

Troye guessed you could consider them friends. Connor had talked to him on that first day of class and they’d worked on projects together since then. Troye didn’t know why, but the other boy always made him nervous. Maybe it was the easy smile that always seemed to be on his face, or how genuine his laugh always sounded whenever Troye made an offhand comment. They weren’t friends in the sense that they hung out or anything—the thought of spending time alone with the other boy made Troye nervous—but they were the type of friends that would wave to each other if they ever saw one another outside of class.

“Let’s go get another drink, I’m out!” Kayla said, dragging Troye’s eyes away from green ones to land on his best friend’s face. She grabbed his hand and pulled him off toward the kitchen. He gave one last glance over his shoulder as she dragged him away and this time he was certain of the smile on those lips as Connor watched him go.

\---

A minute later they were in the kitchen and Kayla was pressing a red cup into his hand, “Are you still mad you came here?” she asked with a smile and Troye simply rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t _mad_ to begin with, I just didn’t know what to expect, that’s all,” he answered.

“Well, you looked like your were having fun out there,” she smiled, playfully ruffling his hair which caused him to scrunch up his nose and bat her hand away, “See any cute boys?” she added with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Troye let out a short laugh, “Okay, now you’re being ridiculous. Like I’m gonna find someone I like in a _frat house_ ,” he scoffed.

“Hey, you never know. People can surprise you,” she said, gently bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Whatever you say, Kay,” Troye said, not sounding entirely convinced but his lips quirked up into a half smile nonetheless.

“Oh, shit. There’s Jake,” Kayla said, catching a tall blonde boy’s eye from across the room and offering a small wave in his direction.

Troye shifted his gaze to follow hers, noticing the smile that spread across the boy’s face when he laid eyes on his best friend.

“What’re you doing? Go talk to him,” Troye said, turning his gaze back to Kayla and nudging her with his elbow.

“Troye, I don’t want to ditch you. I like, _forced you_ to come here,” she responded, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted concerned eyes back in his direction.

“Kayla, I swear, it’s fine. Go talk to him, please,” Troye insisted, glancing back over to the boy she’d been admiring with a smirk before adding, “He’s cute.”

“He really is,” Kayla groaned, before giving in, “Okay, fine. But I’ll be back soon. And like, text me if you need anything, okay? I’m serious.”

Troye rolled his eyes at that response, “I can take care of myself, y’know?” he said, but he couldn’t stop the soft smile that spread across his face at the genuine concern in her voice, “ _Go!_ ” he laughed, waving a hand at her to urge her in his direction.

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” she laughed, flashing him one last smile before making her way across the room.

Troye bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back the giant grin that was threatening to spread across his face at how excited she was about this guy. It was good to see her so happy.

He leaned his back up against the counter, bringing the red plastic cup to his lips to let more alcohol slide down his throat. Blue eyes took in the scene around him—the crowded kitchen, the cups on the floor, the somewhat muffled sound of music from the other room and the loud cheers of the people playing a drinking game in the corner. People were drunk and they were laughing and smiling and everyone seemed genuinely happy. The thing that surprised Troye the most was that not everyone was the same cookie cutter person he had expected them to be—there was something unique about each and every one of them. It was something Troye hadn’t anticipated, but it managed to make him feel more comfortable.

The fuzzy feeling of the alcohol doing its job warmed his body and clouded his brain, finally making him feel more relaxed. He let his eyes scan through the crowd, a small smile present on his lips as he took in every laugh, every charged look, every smile.

His eyes continued to wander from person to person, watching for a second or two before moving on to the next one—the next story. As his gaze shifted from a girl who had just finished spilling her drink on the floor his eyes landed on of a pair of green ones that were suddenly standing right in front of him. His own eyes widened in shock for a moment, his tipsy brain incapable of stopping the very obvious once-over he dragged over the other boy’s body.

When their eyes met again, Troye recognized that knowing smirk sliding across Connor’s face and he felt the blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Hey Troye,” the other boy said.

“Hey Connor,” Troye managed to get out, surprised that the older boy was even talking to him. It wasn’t that Connor wasn’t friendly or anything—he was quite the opposite of that, going out of his way to talk to Troye during class. It was just that they didn’t hang out around the same crowd of people, and Troye would have never expected him to come up to him at a party, let alone remember his name when he was drunk.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Connor said after a brief pause, that smirk never leaving his face as he reached an arm over Troye’s shoulder in order to grab a cup from the counter.

Troye felt the breath catch in his throat as he felt the other boy’s hand brush past his skin, his chest practically making contact with Connor’s as he reached for the cup behind him. _When the hell did he get so close?_

“I—,” Troye started, thoroughly distracted by this boy in front of him and the way he was making him feel. The whole thing only lasted for a second before Connor was pulling away, filling up his cup from the cooler next to them, and Troye was finally able to compose himself, “Didn’t expect to come honestly,” he managed to get out, “But she insisted,” he added, sending a nod in Kayla’s direction.

Green eyes followed his gaze, landing on the spot where Kayla was standing, completely focused on whatever conversation she was having with the boy beside her. Connor smiled, sliding into the spot next to Troye, leaning back against the counter as well, arms loosely crossing over his chest and his cup dangling from his hand.

Troye was highly aware of how close Connor was—his side was practically flush against his own and he could smell the light scent of his cologne coming from his collar. It was putting Troye on edge. He felt his body stiffen up and he tried to focus his attention on Kayla instead.

“Oh, so _that_ is who Jake has been talking about,” Connor smiled, tilting his head at them, “She’s pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Troye said with a smile, before pausing and adding as a second thought, “Is he a good guy?”

Troye could feel the way those green eyes shifted to look at him, but he refused to look back—it was too nerve-wracking. Troye figured he could manage to hold a conversation with Connor as long as he didn’t have to look at him.

“Jake? Oh, yeah. He’s one of the best people I know, honestly,” Connor answered.

“Good,” was all Troye managed to get out. He meant what he said and he believed the other boy, but for some reason he felt incapable of forming long sentences when Connor was still so close to his side.

The silence stretched between them and Troye could feel his nerves heightening. He needed to _say_ something.

“So—,” he started, but was quickly cut off by a loud voice yelling across the room.

“Hey, Con! You’re up!” one of the boys yelled from the beer pong table.

Troye finally felt confident enough to look in Connor’s direction and he saw that the other boy had shifted his sight to the group around the table. A second later his gaze was back on Troye, an eyebrow raised and a mischievous look to his eye as green connected with blue and he asked, “Wanna be my partner?”

“Seriously?” Troye laughed, the question taking him completely by surprise. _What the hell was going on?_

“Yeah,” Connor said with a slight shrug of his shoulder.

“I’ve never actually played before,” Troye admitted, a sheepish look on his face as he nervously ran a hand through his curls.

“Are you kidding me?” Connor said in disbelief, green eyes widening in shock, “Beer pong is like, a rite of passage. Now you definitely have to play, c’mon.”

Before he really knew what was happening Troye felt a gentle hand on his elbow and he was being pulled toward the table. A second later he was standing in front of it, starting down at a triangle of red cups and several cans of beer. Connor’s hand had now moved to shoulder, and Troye was aware that he was still standing dangerously close.

“You know how to play though, right?” Connor asked, giving Troye a pointed look.

“Yeah, you just like—throw the ball into the cup, right?” Troye said with a slight laugh, feeling brave enough to meet Connor’s gaze again.

The other boy’s eyes crinkled up into a smile, “Exactly. You got this,” he said, letting his hand slip off of his shoulder. Troye thought he might have imagined the way his fingers seemed to graze down his arm as they went.

As the game started, Troye was surprised to find he was actually pretty decent at it, making several cups with ease and winning their first game in record time. He could feel the rush of the alcohol he had drank earlier coursing through his veins and the added beer only served to muddle his brain even more. Everything was starting to seem brighter and louder, but in a good way. In a way that made the stress and nerves he had been feeling earlier start to melt away, allowing him to finally feel more comfortable standing next to this boy that constantly made him feel like his heart was jumping into his throat.

He was getting more confident in sneaking looks in Connor’s direction and every once in awhile he managed to catch those green eyes with his own. Each time it happened he couldn’t help the way he caught his bottom lip between his teeth in order to bite back a smile—a smile that the other boy immediately returned without fail.

As the time dragged on and the alcohol did its job, Troye could have sworn that Connor’s hand would linger against his own longer than it needed to whenever he handed him the ball and that the other boy would lean closer to his ear than what was necessary in order to say something about the game, even though it really wasn’t that loud around them.

They were on their third game when he felt the other boy’s hand slip onto the small of his back and Troye was afraid Connor might have noticed the visible shiver that ran up his spine from the action. The other boy was leaning close again and he could feel his hot breath against his ear, “Throw this game so we can do something else.”

Troye felt his breath catch in his throat and he had to close his eyes for a moment in order to let out a shaky breath. Connor could _not_ be suggesting what his drunken mind thought he was suggesting.

Blue eyes flashed open with more confidence than he had and he somehow managed to turn his head to look directly into the green eyes beside him. They were startlingly close and they held a look that Troye was too afraid to read.

“You sure?” Troye managed to ask, his voice sounding more confident than he felt.

“Yeah,” Connor nodded, pulling away but not letting his hand move from its spot on Troye’s back, a smirk playing on his lips, “I have another idea in mind.”

Troye found it was easy to miss his next shot when he was distracted by this boy that he was starting to realize he couldn’t predict at all.

\---

In what felt like mere minutes after that missed shot the game had ended and Troye found himself sitting on the floor of someone’s bedroom. There were at least six other people in a circle beside him, all surrounding a can of beer and a deck of cards.

Troye’s hands were fiddling with a hole in his jeans when he shot a glance in Connor’s direction, but this time the boy didn’t catch his gaze in return, too busy explaining the game to the drunken girl who had taken a seat next to him.

Troye felt his nerves clawing their way back up into his chest as he watched the other boy from where he was seated directly across from him. He felt dumb for thinking that what Connor had said earlier about having another idea in mind had meant anything other than playing another drinking game. Troye raked a hand through the curls on his head and let out a sigh that no one heard.

 _Of course_ he hadn’t meant it in _that_ way. As far as Troye could tell, Connor was straight—he just happened to be a genuinely friendly guy that for whatever reason wanted to make sure Troye had a good time at this party. Maybe he really _had_ looked that uncomfortable when Kayla had left him standing all alone by the counter earlier that night.

Troye blamed the alcohol for making him read too much into things—for making him think even for a second that Connor would be interested in him. He almost wanted to laugh at the thought, but the older boy’s voice speaking over the rest of the group stopped him and pulled him out of his head.

“Okay, does everyone get it?” Connor asked, finally looking away from the girl beside him to let his eyes run across everyone else in the room, “Remember what rule goes with what card and when you’re supposed to drink. Each card you pull goes under the tab and whoever cracks the can open has to chug it.”

 _Easy enough_ , Troye thought, diverting his gaze to where he was cradling a red cup in his lap just as Connor’s eyes finally settled onto him. For some reason, Troye felt like he couldn’t look at them right now, even though he could practically feel that green gaze burning through his skin. He felt like if he did look, Connor would somehow _know_ that Troye had thought he had been hitting on him earlier—that he would know that he thought Connor could actually be interested in him. The idea alone of Connor figuring any of that out was enough to make Troye feel embarrassed and he could feel another blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Okay! Me first!” the girl beside Connor said, reaching in to pull a card from the middle in order to start the game, effectively distracting Troye from his thoughts.

He became more comfortable as the game progressed and there was more time for the alcohol to invade his system. His embarrassment from his earlier thoughts had waned and he found himself laughing with the rest of the group, groaning whenever he had to take a drink, or yelling whenever someone else forgot to take theirs.

He was finally relaxing and he was surprised at how well he was getting along with everyone there—well enough for him to start to feel a little bad for not wanting to come out tonight just because he had thought everyone at a frat party would be awful.

It was Troye’s turn next and he still hadn’t stopped being aware of the green eyes that watched him as he pulled a card from the middle, “Jack,” he said out loud, “Which one was that? Never have I ever?” he asked.

“Yeah, three fingers up. Time to learn some things about y’all,” one of the other girls laughed.

“Okay, never have I ever…” Troye started, pausing to think, “Never have I ever had a tattoo.”

Troye laughed at the audible groans that went around the circle as several of the people put one of their fingers down. He smiled, eyes catching Connor who was smiling back at him from across the circle, three fingers still up.

By the time it was Connor’s turn, Troye was down to one finger, having gotten out for smoking pot and sneaking out. Troye bit his lip, noticing the boy across from him only had one finger left as well, watching as Connor ran a hand through the wave of hair that fell over his face as he tried to think of a question.

A sudden smirk spread over thin lips and green eyes darted up to look directly into the blue ones across from him. There was a brief pause before they parted to say, “Never have I ever kissed a boy.”

Troye felt his heart jump into his throat. _What the hell was Connor getting at with that question._

He felt frozen, unable to look away from the green eyes that were boring into him.

He almost lied—although he wasn’t exactly sure why, it’s not like it was something he kept a secret—but he knew that rejection from Connor would hurt more than he’d like to admit. Troye held their gaze for a second longer and just when he went to put his finger down and reach for his cup to drink, the boy across from him let his hand fall to his side, that confident smirk on his face not once faltering.  
  
“Wait, was I supposed to say something I _haven’t_ done?” the older boy asked in a casual tone, head tilting to the side as his smirk morphed into a much softer smile.

Troye could feel the way his jaw dropped, eyes widening in surprise at Connor’s audacity. He knew he should have been embarrassed by how obviously shocked he was, but the only thing he could think was _what the hell_.

“Connor, what the fuck,” his friend sitting next to him said, falling back onto the floor in laughter, “You did that on purpose.”

Connor merely shrugged, finally breaking eye contact with Troye in order to finish the drink in his cup.

Troye could feel his own heartbeat in his ears. He barely registered that the next turn the beer can popped open and cards went flying across the floor, signaling the end of the game. He was deaf to the loud groans and raucous laughter that followed—the only thing he was aware of was the sandy-haired boy sitting across from him with that mischievous look still in his eye and that playful smirk dancing across his lips.

\---

Troye couldn’t have told you exactly _how_ it happened, but not long after the game had ended and people had made their way back down to the party he found himself with his back pressed up against a wall and Connor’s lips moving against his own.

He barely suppressed the groan that left his throat when he felt Connor’s tongue slide into his mouth, the other boy’s hands gripping onto his hips while his own slid down the other’s back.

Their chests were flush together and Troye could practically feel the heat radiating off of the other boy’s skin and the way his heart was pounding in his chest—the whole thing was making his head spin. Normally Troye might have felt a little more on edge about so blatantly making out with someone in such a public place, but in this moment he honestly didn’t care—all he cared about was the way Connor’s tongue swiped against his own and then how his teeth gently tugged on his bottom lip.

He let himself get lost in the alcohol that was swimming through his veins and the electric shocks that Connor’s skin was sending up his spine. He couldn’t care less if anyone noticed them because the daydream he’d been having ever since he first laid eyes on Connor at the beginning of the semester was _actually_ becoming a reality—and that was all that mattered to him right now.

Thin lips pulled away from his own in order to trail kisses along his jawline before attaching to his neck. Troye had to bite back a moan, teeth catching onto his bottom lip as he tilted his head to the side, eyes slipping closed so he could focus on the hot mouth on his neck that felt like it was setting fire to his skin.

Troye couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lips a second later when he felt a warm hand slip underneath his shirt, ghosting across the skin of his stomach and over the waistband of his jeans.

“Where’s your room?” Troye asked, blue eyes flashing open when that hand brushed past the bulge in his jeans.

Connor’s lips pulled away from Troye’s neck with a laugh, green eyes sparkling at blue as fingers traced down a skinny arm to lace together before Connor pulled him down the hall.

The minute they were through the door to Connor’s bedroom Troye’s arms snaked around his neck and their lips found each other once again.

Troye let his hands run down the other boy’s chest before they were tugging at the hem of Connor’s shirt, pulling it off a second later. With arms now disentangled from the removal of clothing, Troye was able to take a step back in order to let his eyes rake over Connor’s figure. Every hard line, every stray freckle—he couldn’t stop his hands from running slowly over the curves of his chest and the ridges of his stomach. Troye could feel eyes digging into him but he didn’t look back up to meet them, blue following his fingers’ journey across Connor’s skin. After what felt like an hour but what had probably been less than a minute, Connor managed to wrap an arm around his hips and Troye found his back pinned up against the door. A quiet gasp fell from his mouth and he could feel the shiver that ran through Connor’s spine when their bodies connected before lips found their way to his neck again, sucking in a mark that would be sure to show the next day.

Connor’s hands gripped his hips tightly, his lips slowing their movements as he made a trail back to Troye’s in order to meet him in a lazy kiss. It was slow and smooth and Troye could practically feel the way his body crumpled at the touch. It was a kiss that somehow managed to be both heated and comforting—tempting, but at the same time able to give him some strange sense of ease.

That kiss dragged on for some time. Troye couldn’t tell the difference anymore between hours and minutes—all he knew was the heavy feeling falling over his chest and the way his body and mind never wanted to move away from the warmth that was surrounding him and the simplicity of the person in front of him.

When Connor went to pull Troye’s shirt over his head and their lips finally parted, Troye couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped his mouth.

He could feel the way Connor’s hands stilled on his shoulders and heard the way the other boy’s laugh rang out distinctly in the quiet room, “Did you just _yawn_?” he asked with a smile.

Blue eyes popped open and Troye realized he hadn’t even noticed when they had closed. He jutted out the bottom of his lip in a small pout. His head was still spinning, but now he was sure it was entirely from the alcohol, and his eyelids felt so heavy he could barely hold them open.

“Am I boring you?” Connor said softly against his ear after bringing his lips back to trail a line of kisses up his jaw, a note of laughter lacing his words.

“Nooo, you’re not. I swear, I’m just—,” Troye started, hands trailing down the smooth skin alongside Connor’s ribs, but before he could finish his sentence another yawn was pushing past his lips.

Connor laughed again, pulling away just enough to allow smiling green eyes to stare down at the boy in front of him—ocean eyes heavy with sleep, parted lips swollen from kisses, and curly hair a tousled mess. Connor couldn’t resist running his fingers through the curls hanging in front of the younger boy’s face, pushing them off of his forehead and letting his hand tangle through his hair before allowing it to come to rest on the back of his neck.

“You’re just tired,” Connor finished for him, a smile playing on his lips, leaning in to let his forehead rest against Troye’s.

All Troye could manage was a simple nod, the action alone making his head swim again and he had to let his eyes fall shut in order to keep himself from getting dizzy.

He heard yet another sprinkle of laughter before he felt an arm slip around his waist and a moment later found his back hitting the mattress. The sudden movement made his head spin and he squeezed his eyes tighter in order to focus on the stability of the bed beneath him as opposed to the waves of nausea that were now rushing through his stomach.

“Okay, well your pants are way too tight to sleep in,” Connor said matter-of-factly. His voice felt far away. Troye wasn’t sure if he just wasn’t close to him anymore, or if he was already losing himself to sleep.

“You’re right,” Troye mumbled with another slow nod, eyes still closed as he blindly went to fumble with the button of his jeans.

Connor just laughed, swatting his hands away before doing it himself, tugging the tight material off and tossing it to join Troye’s shirt on the floor, wherever it had landed earlier.

Troye managed a hum of appreciation in response and after hearing the distinct sound of a belt being undone and material falling to the floor, he felt the bed dip as a heavy body fell against his own. He could feel gentle lips on his stomach, making their way up his chest and over to his neck. He felt warm breath on his ear and the brush of soft hair against his cheek. He wanted more than anything to open his eyes because he knew didn’t want this to end, but his eyelids felt like they were made out of lead and his chest felt so heavy he almost forgot how to breathe. Everything just felt too comfortable—the bed was too soft and Connor was too warm. _If only he wasn’t so damn tired._

He felt a thumb swipe over his bottom lip before a soft kiss took its place. Connor’s lips lingered on his for a moment and he felt a gentle hand on his cheek. Troye let out a hum of contentment just before he felt Connor’s lips pull away. A moment later, blankets were pulled over his frame and he felt a heavy body lying half on top of his own, right before he let that tired feeling consume him and he lost himself to sleep.

\---

Troye woke up the next morning to a dull pounding in his head and bright sunlight shining into his face. His mouth felt impossibly dry and he didn’t have to touch his hair to know that it was probably a knotted mess. As he went to run a hand through it anyway he became suddenly aware of the heavy weight on his chest and his blue eyes flashed open in a panic. He immediately shut them again and let out a groan as the rays of sunlight practically blinded him, making his head hurt even worse. _What the hell had happened last night?_  
  
He was lying completely still now, acutely aware of the boy that was sprawled half on top of him and how he could feel his even breaths of sleep against his skin, sending goosebumps down his arms. Troye took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the nerves he could feel crawling up his throat, peeking his eyes open just enough to take in the disheveled mess of sandy brown hair splayed across his chest and the set of thin lips parted in sleep. He let his eyes wander down the expanse of tanned skin of Connor’s back, noticing every freckle and ridge of muscle until his eyes came to rest on where the sheets were pooled around their waists.

Troye let his eyes slip closed again and took in another controlled breath. He was trying to rack his brain for memories of the night before, to piece together how he had ended up shirtless and squished in a twin bed with _Connor Franta_ of all people. Troye could feel his heartbeat quicken as the memories of the night before flooded back to him. The gentle touches, that hand resting on his back, the way those green eyes were always finding blue. That devilish smirk on Connor’s face when he had admitted to kissing boys and the frenzied make out session that had occurred soon after. _And then what?_ Troye frowned at the thought. _They had made their way to Connor’s room and then…._

Troye’s eyes flew wide open as the memory came back to him. _He had fallen asleep on him._ Legitimately just _passed out_ in the middle of hooking up with the guy he had had a crush on since the beginning of the semester. He was shirtless in another boy’s bed and they didn’t even do anything because he had _fallen asleep_. Troye had to bite his lip to hold back a groan and he could feel the warmth of his blush spreading across his cheeks.

The whole situation was more than Troye could handle. Not only had he completely embarrassed himself, but he didn’t even know if Connor was gay. Sure, he had _said_ he had kissed other guys before but they had both been drunk when that happened. What if Connor woke up and freaked out about finding a half naked boy in his bed that he barely even remembered? Troye was completely mortified at the thought. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there, _now._

Troye opened his eyes again and let them shift around the room, finding the exit and where his clothes were tossed onto the floor. He glanced back down to the boy peacefully asleep on top of him, not being able to resist the urge to reach out a hand to touch the wave of hair on his face before he attempted to gingerly slide out from underneath him.

The second he moved the arm Connor had flung over his chest tightened around him and the boy mumbled something incoherent, snuggling further into the crook of Troye’s neck. _Shit._

Troye’s body tensed, letting out a slow breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in and waiting for a minute before he attempted to move again. This time the arm around him didn’t tighten, but it still moved, shifting down as the head on his shoulder stirred.

“Are you really trying to leave right now?” Connor mumbled, voice husky with sleep. Troye refused to acknowledge how the sound of it almost made him shiver.

“Without saying anything?” the older boy added after Troye didn’t respond.

Troye didn’t know what to do. He felt frozen, lips slightly parted as words stuck in his throat. He glanced down briefly and was caught by a set of sleepy green eyes, “Don’t go,” Connor said.

Troye didn’t like the way his heart jumped at the sound of those words. He let out a shaky breath, reaching a hand up to run through the tired locks on his head before a nervous laugh escaped his lips, “This is so… _awkward_ ,” he admitted.

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Connor said matter-of-factly, propping himself up on his elbow so that he was now hovering over Troye, no longer laying on top of him and keeping him there.

“I mean, I was drunk and practically _threw myself_ at you. And then I—passed out in your bed?” Troye said with an embarrassed smile, casting his eyes downward as he tried to fight the blush he was afraid would take over his face again.

“You didn’t _throw_ yourself at me,” Connor said with a laugh, that sparkle coming back into his sleepy eyes, “But yeah, the rest sounds pretty accurate,” he smirked, pushing himself off of the bed in order to look for a shirt.

Troye hated the feeling of embarrassment that was swarming him as he sunk even further into the sheets, covering his face and letting out a groan. All that did was earn him another sprinkle of laughter from the boy across the room and when he opened his eyes again he saw him standing by the bed, chest still bare but shirt in hand. “Hungover?” Connor asked with a smile.  
  
Troye managed a laugh of his own at that, giving a short nod that made him wince, “Yeah, a little bit. Got a headache, could’ve been worse though.”

Connor just smiled, sitting down on the edge of his bed and staring at the blue-eyed boy still laying in it with a look Troye couldn’t read. After what felt like too long of a silence, Connor’s voice broke through the air once again, more serious this time, “Stay, okay? I wanna take you to breakfast. I know the best place for hangovers,” he said.

Troye sat up, tilting his head to the side and giving Connor a look of confusion. This was _not_ what usually happened to him after he hooked up with someone at a party. Normally he would either sneak out and never see the guy again, or they would suffer through some awkward morning conversation and then avoid each other from there on out. But this—this was something completely different for Troye. No one had ever asked him to _stay._

Despite being completely unsure of what was happening, Troye couldn’t ignore the way his heart sped up every time Connor looked at him. Or the way it was hard to resist returning that lazy smile that always seemed to spread across the older boy’s face. Troye hadn’t expected this, _at all_. But just because he hadn’t expected it didn’t mean it was something he should run away from.  
  
“Okay,” Troye said, and even he was surprised by his own answer.

Connor practically beamed at his response, “Okay,” he grinned, standing up to pull the t-shirt on over his head, “I have an extra toothbrush, if you want?”

Troye nodded, finally moving to get out of bed and pull on his clothes from the night before. Connor tossed him a new toothbrush and gave him directions to the bathroom down the hall, and Troye left a second later.

As he stood in front of a dirty mirror in a fraternity house bathroom, blue eyes staring at a mess of curly hair and the wrinkled t-shirt on his chest, Troye couldn’t seem to shake off how _normal_ all of this felt. Yeah, every time Connor looked at him his heart jumped into his throat, but talking to him was _easy_. He felt like he had known him for the longest time and yet everything he did still surprised him. Connor was unpredictable, but in the best kind of way.  
  
When Troye made his way back to Connor’s room, he stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watched boy in front of him looking in the mirror, combing his fingers through the unruly wave of hair crashing over his forehead.

After a second of silence Troye decided to speak, asking a question he had been wondering since the night before, “So, are you—?” he started, before hesitating, questioning himself once again.

Connor glanced over to him, raising an eyebrow at the question, “Am I what?” he asked, before a knowing look fell over his face and he let out another one of his loud laughs, “Gay? Yeah, I am,” he smiled, before shifting his gaze back to his hair in the mirror.

“Do people like, know?” Troye asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, they do,” Connor answered, that soft smile not once leaving his face. Troye was grateful for how genuine it seemed.

“Even your fraternity? They’re cool about it?” Troye continued, the disbelief evident in his voice.

“Yeah, Troye. They’re cool about it. Not all stereotypes are true,” Connor said, turning to him once again as he grabbed his wallet off of his desk and tucked it into his pocket.

He felt a sense of relief from hearing all of that. Connor was gay, he was out, and he seemed to have plenty of friends who supported him. Troye didn’t know why he kept looking for things to ruin this.

“C’mon, let’s go,” the other boy said, “If we wait any longer it won’t really be considered breakfast anymore.”

Troye smiled and not long after they were headed out the door. The house was still a mess from the party—beer cans and plastic cups were strewn all over the floor and there were people asleep on every couch and chair he could see.

Just as they were about to step outside, Troye heard a whistle coming from behind him and he instinctively looked over his shoulder at the sound. Connor did the same and their eyes landed on a group of boys sprawled across one of the couches, clearly hungover and having passed out there the night before.

“Damn, Connor!” one of them said with a laugh, pointedly looking at Troye, who could immediately feel the heat spread across his face.

When he glanced over at Connor he was relieved to see the blush dancing on his cheeks too. A second later he felt a hand on the small of his back, pushing him out the door as quickly as possible.

“Okay, so _some_ stereotypes are true,” Connor mumbled and Troye couldn’t help but laugh as they found their way to Connor’s car, his embarrassment quickly waning.

 _Maybe this could actually turn into something_ , Troye mused as he got into the car, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind he wanted to squash it out. There was no use getting his hopes up.

\---

The drive was short but enjoyable. Connor rolled the windows down and played the music loud. It should’ve made Troye’s head hurt even worse but it actually made him forget about it for awhile.

While his curls were blowing in the the wind and he became slowly impressed by how similar their music tastes were, Troye recognized that he probably should’ve called Kayla to figure out where she had gone last night. He was sure she had seen at least some of what had gone on between him and Connor the night before, but he wasn’t sure how much. He knew she was probably worried about him—she always was. But the way Connor would occasionally shoot a glance in his direction and offer him one of those bright smiles made Troye forget about anything else. All he could seem to focus on was what was happening right now—it was refreshing.

They arrived not long after at a small café tucked into a corner. It was unassuming, something Troye knew he would’ve walked right past without giving it a second thought if he had been alone.

He followed Connor inside, noting how comfortable he seemed to be here, not even waiting to be seated but sliding into a chair right by a window that looked out on the busy street. Troye just smiled as he took the seat across from him—this really must have been somewhere Connor went all of the time.

Before Troye even had time to say anything a waitress was at their table with two steaming hot mugs of coffee, setting one in front of each of the boys.

“Hi Connor, honey. I’m guessing you want your usual?” the waitress asked with a smile. She was an older women, maybe nearing her fifties with hair that looked like it never left the eighties. Her lips were red and her smile was bright as she looked between the two boys seated in front of her.

“Hi Cindy. Yeah, two please,” Connor nodded and Troye raised an eyebrow at him in question. He hadn’t even looked at a menu yet.

Connor caught the look on his face and offered him a lopsided smile, “Trust me,” he said.

“Yeah, you can trust this one. He’s obviously got good taste,” she said with a loud laugh and Troye could feel himself blushing once more.

Connor laughed as well, curling his hands around the mug in front of him before bringing the drink up to his lips.

“Your food will be out soon,” she said after she was done laughing, before reaching out a hand to ruffle Connor’s hair, “It’s been awhile, honey. Don’t be a stranger now,” she said, before looking pointedly at Troye’s neck and then back to Connor with a knowing smile, “Although, I can tell you’ve been busy,” she said with another bark of laughter before she made her way to another table.

Troye’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What was she—,” he started before a look of realization dawned over his face and his hand moved subconsciously to the spot on his neck he knew Connor’s lips had found the night before, “Oh my god.”

Connor laughed before managing a sympathetic look, although he couldn’t totally suppress the smug grin that was threatening to take over his face, “Yeah, sorry.”

Troye let out a short laugh, shaking his head more at himself than anything. It wasn’t that often that he let himself go as much as he had the night before and if he was being honest, he felt pretty good about it. But even as he was bringing the coffee cup to his lips, blue eyes smiling at the green ones staring back at him, he couldn’t totally get rid of that nervous feeling clawing at his stomach.

“So, Troye,” Connor smiled, hand toying with the napkin on the table beside him.

“Connor,” Troye responded, a smile finding its way back onto his face.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“That’s a loaded question,” the younger boy said, teeth catching on his bottom lip, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Connor said, and even though that playful spark was still in his eyes there was a serious tone to his voice as well.

It was such a simple question with such a simple answer that Troye barely knew where to begin, so he just started talking. He was surprised by how easily they fell into conversation. It never felt one-sided or like Troye was just talking about himself. Connor had a way of balancing out everything he said with a story of his own and asking interesting questions at just the right time.

They started out talking about school and Troye was surprised to find that the other boy was a senior while he was only a sophomore. He learned that while Connor was passionate about photography, he was in school for business, hoping to combine the two one day for a career. Troye gushed about music and how much he loved creating things, how he drew inspiration from everything going on around him and how at the end of the day as long as he liked what he was making, that was all that mattered.

They had similar passions and goals, but somewhat different paths. Connor lived a life that was more structured while Troye had less concrete plans. Despite this, Connor seemed to have a drive for adventure and spontaneity, something Troye knew he lacked. But if this boy in front of him was any indication, Troye had a feeling he was becoming at least a little more impulsive with his decisions. It was a thought that was both terrifying and exciting.

When their food finally arrived Connor insisted that he usually was a really healthy person, but this place was his weak spot. Troye rolled his eyes in disbelief before they both dug into the breakfast sandwich and giant plate of hashbrowns place in front of them.

The whole time they talked and laughed and learned and Troye couldn’t remember the last time he had ever felt so comfortable with another person. When their plates were empty, Troye could feel his stomach sink because he knew their time together was finally coming to an end.

They hadn’t really talked about the night before or anything beyond this particular moment, but Troye knew he would have to bring it up eventually. He figured now was as good a time as any.

“So, about last night,” he started, aimlessly pushing his leftover food around his plate, avoiding eye contact with the boy across from him.

“What about it?” Connor asked, folding his arms across the table and Troye could feel his eyes staring directly at him.

“It was weird, wasn’t it? We barely even know each other, I completely led you on, and then I passed out in your bed and stayed the night…”

“Troye,” Connor said, and the younger boy finally managed to look up and meet his gaze, “Don’t overthink it, okay?” he smiled, reaching out a hand to squeeze Troye’s before he stood up, pulling his wallet from his pocket.  
  
“Feeling any better?” he asked.

Troye ran a hand through his hair, his skin still tingling from Connor’s touch, taking a brief pause before he spoke, “I’m less nauseous, yeah. Head still kind of hurts, though,” he answered honestly.

“Okay, I have _one_ more thing to show you then. If you’ll let me?” Connor said, a hopeful look on his face.

“Yeah,” Troye said with a nod and a smile, “Yeah, of course.”

He was beginning to think at this point he’d let Connor show him anything. It was nice not knowing what to expect from someone.

\---

“Where are we going?” Troye asked after they had been in the car for some time, noticing how the rows of houses had slowly morphed into lines of trees.

“Somewhere I always go when I need to clear my head,” Connor answered simply, shooting a sly smile in Troye’s direction.

Troye just raised an eyebrow at him, eyes turning to look out the window as Connor pulled the car into a gravel parking lot just off the road.

“What—,” Troye started and Connor simply laughed, parking and getting out of the car. He walked over to the other side, opening the passenger side door for Troye to get out.

Troye hesitated for a moment, giving Connor an incredulous look, “C’mon,” the older boy said, a hint of laughter still present in his voice, “ _Trust me_. You trusted me earlier.”

“Yeah, that was with my breakfast, not my life,” Troye said with a smirk as he got out of the car.

Connor just rolled his eyes before playfully bumping their shoulders together. He locked his car before he nodded towards a sign indicating a trail, “This way,” he said, heading in that direction.

Troye shook his head at him before he followed. Despite not being an outdoorsy person, he did have to admit the fresh air felt good on his face and helped to clear his head. It was nice to get out of the city for once, to find something new.

He let his eyes take in the tall trees surrounding them and the rocky cliffs that blocked their view to the left. But if he was being honest he was more distracted by the boy walking a few steps in front of him and the way he kept looking over his shoulder and shooting him a coy smile that Troye couldn’t help to return.

As they walked, Connor stopped several times to bend down and snap a picture on his phone from a weird angle, causing Troye to laugh every time. After a few more minutes of moving along the path, Troye had to ask, “Are we just going for a walk in the woods or—,” he started.

“ _No_ ,” Connor insisted, stopping so suddenly that Troye almost walked past him, “I said I wanted to show you something. It’s actually right around this corner,” he said, nodding at the rocky expanse to their left that curved, blocking the view ahead.

Troye gave a curious glance to the boy beside him before moving to take a step forward, but just as he did he felt a pair of warm hands slip over his eyes, sending him into darkness.

“What’re you—,” Troye started, but before he could finish he felt Connor’s breath against his ear and it was sending a shiver down his spine.

“If you listen, you’ll hear it before you see it,” he said quietly, and Troye did exactly what he was told. Despite being distracted by the heat of Connor’s skin on his face and the feeling of his chest flush against his back, he strained his ears to listen and he managed to catch the sound of rushing water just beyond the cliff’s edge.

“Keep your eyes closed and keep listening,” Connor said, before pulling his hands away. Troye did what he said, not moving from his spot until he felt Connor’s fingers interlace with his own and a gentle hand was pulling him forward. As he moved the sound only increased and a minute later they had stopped, the sound practically crashing against his ears now.

“Okay, open them,” Connor’s voice said as he felt him give his hand a squeeze. Blue eyes opened to take in the sight of water cascading down the rocks in front of them and into a small pool of water below. The cliff was overgrown with moss, and mist was rising from the pond up to the rocky edge surrounding it.

“Woah,” Troye let out quietly, taking a few steps forward and dropping Connor’s hand. He stared at the waterfall in awe for a moment before he looked back over his shoulder at the boy smiling behind him, “How did you find this?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

Connor shrugged, arms crossed over his chest, “Just stumbled upon it one day. Then I started coming whenever I needed to clear my head or catch a break, or just—whenever I needed to feel something _calm_ ,” he said, walking past Troye and stepping up on a rock in front of them before sitting down to get a better view. He glanced over his shoulder at Troye and patted the spot beside him, turning his gaze back to the rushing water before them.

Troye took the cue, settling down next to him with his legs pulled up to his chest, wrapping his thin arms around them and resting his chin on his knees.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air, reveling in the sound of the water crashing into the pool beneath them, the feeling as the breeze gusted through the curls on his head, the mist settling onto his face, and the warmth of the shoulder pressing against his own. It really was exactly what he had needed.

Troye eventually opened his eyes to take in the scene before him but this time the two boys didn’t talk. They sat in silence but it wasn’t awkward or strained or uncomfortable—if anything it was the exact opposite. It was the kind of silence that makes you feel calm—the kind of silence that reassures you that you aren’t alone but doesn’t pressure you into being anything other than what you happen to be in that moment. It made any tension or nervousness disperse from his shoulders and any worry he might have had fade from his mind. It was the kind of silence had between two people who had an understanding of each other that went beyond what words could say.

After that silence stretched for an extended period of time, Troye glanced over to the boy sitting cross-legged beside him, hands folded neatly in his lap. Just as he looked over, those green eyes turned to catch his stare, the corner of Connor’s lips quirking up into a half-smile that Troye felt himself immediately return.

They sat like that for a minute longer before Connor reached out a hand to run through Troye’s curls just as he did the night before, pushing them off of his forehead as blue eyes slipped closed. A second later he felt soft lips pressed up against his own and he slid a hand to rest on the back of Connor’s neck, fingers threading through the short hairs on the back of his head.

Their kiss was soft at first—simply lips pressing against one another, occasionally pulling away before coming back together again. Eventually they parted and Troye felt a tongue against his own. He moved his other hand to join the first, tangling in the back of Connor’s hair as he pulled himself closer. Connor had one hand on his cheek and the other supporting himself on the rock.

Their kiss had sped up and Troye could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing through his veins as he leaned into the boy beside him. He shifted to get a better angle and moved to throw one leg over Connor’s lap, one knee on each side of the older boy’s hips.

His hands were still tangled in Connor’s hair and he could feel hands moving slowly down his back before they came to rest on his ass, giving it a squeeze that caused him to release Connor’s lips with an audible groan.

He could have sworn he heard the other boy laugh and just as he was moving in to attach his lips to Connor’s neck, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and heard his familiar ringtone breaking the silence.

This time he let out a groan of a different sort as his forehead fell onto Connor’s shoulder and now he was certain he heard the other boy laugh.

“Answer it,” he heard Connor say, to which he responded with another groan before he sat back on Connor’s thighs, pulling his phone from his pocket and bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered and he was immediately assaulted by his best friend’s voice.

“Where are you?!” she said, loud enough that Connor raised an eyebrow at him before she continued, “We have that project meeting in thirty minutes. I _told_ you it was stupid to do it on a Saturday. Also, did I see you with _Connor Franta_ last night? What the hell is up with that?” she rambled

Connor raised both eyebrows at the sound of his name and pointed at himself with a smirk, silently mouthing, “Are you talking about me?” to Troye, who immediately rolled his eyes and gave him a playful shove to the chest.

“Shit, Kay. I’m sorry. I totally forgot. I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“ _Did you spend the night with him_?” Kayla asked, completely ignoring everything Troye had said.

“No—I mean, yes, but it’s _not_ what you think, okay? I’ll— explain it all when I get back, promise,” Troye said, feeling a blush spreading over his cheeks, which made Connor laugh again.

“You’re still with him!” Kayla said, and Troye wasn’t sure if it was shock or excitement he could hear in her voice.

“Oh my god, I’ll see you in thirty minutes, okay?” Troye said, “Bye, Kayla,” he finished, hanging up on her before she could get another word in.

Connor had stopped laughing now, leaning back on his hands as he smiled up at Troye, “Guess you gotta go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Troye said with a slight frown.

“Okay,” Connor said, his smile not once faltering as he sat back up, but not before giving Troye’s thigh a quick squeeze, “Is your headache gone?” he asked as Troye stood up.

Troye paused, thinking about it for a minute before he realized that it was—he hadn’t noticed any pain in his head from the minute they had sat down in front of the waterfall.

He didn’t have to say anything before Connor grinned, “Told you this was the best place to clear your head,” he said with a wink, before heading back up the path they came.

\---

The drive home was quieter than the ride to the park had been. The windows were now rolled up and the music coming from the speakers was softer and slower than it had been before. They were mostly quiet as well. The silence was still comfortable but not in the same way as it had been when they were sitting in front of that waterfall. Now the silence was a little more strained—or at least it seemed that way to Troye.

He was worried, if he was being honest—lost in the thoughts swarming through his head about where they would go from here. Would things go back to exactly as they had been? Resigned to the occasional hello when they saw each other on campus and merely talking about the project in front of them when they worked together on things in class.

Troye didn’t want that—he wanted more. Spending the night and the subsequent morning with Connor had been the absolute _last_ thing Troye had expected when he walked into that fraternity house the night before. He really didn’t know what he had been expecting but he could say with certainty it was not the fluttering feeling rising in his chest or the way his heart rate increased every time blue connected with green.

It was scary to admit—and he knew it seemed silly because it all felt so sudden—but he didn’t want to let this go. And what was even worse was that he didn’t know if he had the guts to admit any of this to the boy sitting next to him. The thought of telling him made his stomach churn with nerves.

Troye had given Connor directions before they left the park and they pulled up in front of his apartment not long after. The drive home had seemed to go by entirely too fast.

Troye unbuckled his seatbelt and paused, hesitant as to what he should do next.

“I’ll see you in class, I guess,” Troye eventually said.

Green eyes shifted over to him, giving him a hard look that Troye didn’t know how to read, “You’re really going to make me wait until Wednesday to see you again?” the other boy said, and Troye was genuinely surprised by the question.

“What?” he asked, even though he had clearly heard what Connor had said.  
  
Connor let out a short laugh, looking down at his lap as he ran a hand through the hair on his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips, “I thought I had made myself obvious. All those times in class, last night…”

“Well, last night I thought you just wanted to hook up,” Troye said before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth. He regretted it the minute it came out. He couldn’t get up the nerve to tell Connor he wanted to see him again but somehow managed to tell him he thought he was just going to be a quick fuck? This time he couldn’t meet those green eyes that were giving him an incredulous look.

“Seriously?” Connor said, “I mean, I did want to hook up,” he admitted and Troye could feel himself blushing yet again, “But even after this morning? I thought I made it obvious I want more than just that,” he paused, “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I _actually_ like you?”

Troye didn’t know why, honestly. Maybe it was because running away from something had always seemed easier than running to something. Or maybe it was because butterflies in his stomach had always meant something bad was happening instead of something good. Maybe Connor had been nothing at all like what he had expected and the realization that people could surprise you was not only terrifying but exhilarating. Troye knew he couldn’t get enough and while that made him want to push the other boy away it also made him want to hold on tighter than he ever had before.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Troye eventually said, letting out a sigh of his own as he ran a hand through his curls, “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. Like, I didn’t mean it in a _bad_ way. If I’m being honest, last night _I_ was pretty determined to hook up with you—” he rambled on, stumbling over his words and the blush that had just started to disappear was now creeping back over his cheeks because of his last words.

Yet that sound of laughter that had managed to become so familiar in such a short amount of time had a way of making him feel a little less nervous and a little more at ease with everything going on between them. He felt a hand on his chin before he saw it coming, pulling his gaze up to meet a pair of smiling green eyes.

Thin lips found his own and before he knew it his eyes were sliding shut, lips parting to respond. Troye didn’t know whether he loved or hated the way every single nervous question that had been swimming around his head immediately faded the moment Connor was kissing him. It was like everything went blank and the only thing he could focus on was this boy in front of him.

That kiss could have lasted minutes or hours and Troye would have never been able to tell the difference. When Connor finally pulled away Troye felt his eyes flutter back open to find a boy smiling in front of him and the sensation of a hand holding onto his own.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” Connor said, and Troye couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face.

“Yeah—yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Troye said, giving the hand held within his own a squeeze before getting out of the car and watching as the other boy finally drove away.

If Troye had learned anything from his day spent with Connor Franta it was that people are not always what you expect them to be—but they might end up being the exact person you were looking for all along.

Despite their day together having come to an end, Troye couldn’t stop the hopeful smile that spread over his face when he realized that their story was only just starting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Today has been a GOOD day so I figured why not edit quickly and post this? :) So, sorry if you find more typos than usual.
> 
> This is the longest thing I've ever written. Maybe one day we'll see a part two.
> 
> ANYWAYS, let me know what you think in the comments PLEASE.
> 
> love u xx angela


	11. LOST BOY

He watched as white clouds flew past the window, ghosting over the airplane wing and occasionally parting enough to reveal a glimpse of the ground below. The sun was setting, leaving shades of red and orange to melt amongst the clouds, adding a faint glow to their edges. Troye’s head was pressed against the glass of the airplane window, curls flattened by the hat on his head and blue eyes dull from restless nights and a lack of sleep.

His mind felt as hazy as the sky outside. The last week and half had felt like such a blurry, busy mess—a mess that had left his thoughts spinning in every direction. He had just finished the Australian leg of his tour and now he was headed back to LA. He knew he should have been excited about going back, but instead he felt anxious—his stomach tying into knots whenever he thought about the things that were going on in his life for more than five seconds at a time.

Things were _good_ and he knew that, but there was just one piece of it all that felt off. He tried to avoid thinking about it, he really did, but half the time he felt like he was just putting up a front in order to get by. Each day went on and it was easy to get through it because he was distracted. But the minute everything was finished and he was alone for the night, he couldn’t stop the way his thoughts took over. Every doubt, every question, every concern he had ever had would come crashing in and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

It all came back to Connor—it always did. Troye could never understand how the source of his happiness could also end up being the source of all his stress. Things had only gotten worse over time, the same way they always did whenever they were both busy and distracted and spending a lot of time apart. Every time it was the same thing that occurred—the same emotions, the same situations, the same arguments—and Troye couldn’t understand how it still managed to surprise him each time it happened.

It all started whenever one of them would leave for an extended period of time, although recently it had been Troye who was doing all of the leaving. Things would be okay at first—they would keep in touch, send good morning texts and talk on the phone every night. One of them would say something sappy and they’d both laugh about it, shocked that after all this time they could still somehow manage to miss the other so much that it hurt. Even though it sucked to be apart, there was something about the distance and the longing that felt good. The way someone can occupy your mind even when they’re not with you, the way they can drive you crazy even when they’re not there—it always reminded Troye of how lucky he truly was. How lucky he was to have someone that he could miss.

So things would start out okay and they would miss each other and it was terrible, but in a comforting sort of way. Then time would stretch and the distance would start to feel greater—good morning texts stopped and sometimes calls at night would get forgotten. The air would feel tense even from half way across the world. Eventually one of them would snap and an argument would ensue. It would be the same thing every time just with different words—all an accumulation of the distance and the space between. Missing someone went from a reassuring ache to a pain that neither of them could bear to handle.

So this was how the cycle always went—consistent and never broken.

Things would get bad, the questions and the doubts would start to rise, but then not long after Troye would come home. He would fly into LAX and there would be a sandy haired boy with tumultuous green eyes waiting for him, lips pulled into a small frown and forehead wrinkled with worry. His features would soften the minute he caught sight of blue eyes and chocolate curls standing in the crowd and any tension that was in his shoulders would disappear the second he found himself wrapped up in a pair of skinny arms.

Every fight would be forgotten and every shred of guilt would fade away. The stress from the distance wouldn’t matter anymore and all of it would be pushed to the back of their minds, where it would wait to come up again another day. Things were bad when they were apart but everything felt normal again when they were together. It was because of all this that it was easy to forget—easy to just get lost in each other the way they had always done. The happiness that they felt in the moment made all of the pain from the distance seem worth it, in a way.

Right before Troye had left for Australia this time, the same conversation they would always have came creeping back up. Connor had mentioned something about Troye moving to LA and the younger boy brushed it off. Connor had gotten annoyed but he didn’t say anything else, so they moved past it once again but it had started their time apart off on a bad note.

The truth was that Troye had been meaning to move to LA for awhile now and it was something they used to talk about a lot more before, but as Troye became busier and busier the whole idea started to seem pointless to him. Why anchor himself to one place when he was never really anywhere for more than a few weeks to begin with? It all seemed unnecessarily permanent, but he was hesitant to bring that up to Connor.

Troye knew how important it was for Connor to feel like Troye had a home in LA—to see this city as a place he could come back to when it was all said and done. Connor saw Troye moving there as a solution to the distance—as if he would somehow seem less far away if he had a place to tether him back to where they both were—but Troye wasn’t sure it would make any difference at all. And there was a tiny part of him that was afraid to admit that maybe nothing ever would.

So as the pilot announced their landing time and what the weather would be like on the ground, Troye let out a heavy sigh that fogged up the window in front of him. The cycle was coming to an end once again and he knew that even though he was worried about it now, he’d forget it all the second he spotted that green-eyed boy waiting for him in the crowd.

\---

Troye’s first few nights in LA were exactly how he had expected them to be. He took his time to overcome his jetlag and spent lazy days in Connor’s apartment that consisted of a lot of take out and Netflix documentaries. They had fallen back into their usual routine. The past weeks’ arguments had long been forgotten and the stress and strain caused by the distance had quickly faded. Things managed to go back to normal before Troye could even entertain the idea of bringing up any of those late night thoughts that had haunted him all throughout his tour.

Those feelings didn’t even manage to resurface until his third night in town. He and Connor ended up going out to the bars to catch up with the rest of their friends. Troye could feel the alcohol flooding through his veins and the beat of the bass all the way down to his bones. He had been having a lot of fun—laughing and catching up with people he felt like he hadn’t seen in forever. He had managed to let himself get lost in the moment entirely, dancing in the middle of the crowd with all of his friends surrounding him, arms flung loosely around Connor’s neck as the much more sober boy rested a gentle hand on the small of his back.

It felt good. Good to be home and surrounded by people he cared about. It felt like things hadn’t actually changed and for a second Troye thought that maybe they truly hadn’t. It’s funny how you can go away for what feels like the longest time but whenever you come back to a place that’s familiar, despite things being entirely different, it all still manages to feel exactly the same. For Troye, that feeling was what made it home.

As the night died down Troye found himself seated at a table near the bar, another drink in hand as he laughed at the conversation his friends were having across from him. His drinking had slowed down at this point and he was getting tired, the months of travel having taken a serious toll on his sleeping habits. After awhile he was only half listening to the conversation across from him, occasionally giving a small laugh or putting a few words in, but his eyes were trained to the bar where Connor stood and his mind was eventually lost to the scene that was beginning to unfold before him.

Another boy had come up to Connor and the two were chatting. Troye wondered if Connor knew him or if the older boy was just being his nice and friendly self, just like he always was. Troye noted that the boy talking to Connor was tall and tan with slightly wavy blonde hair—he managed to look carefree and put together at the same time.

_He’s cute_ , Troye noted to himself as he lazily swirled the melting ice in his cup, one elbow resting on the table beside him and his chin laying in his hand.

He watched as the blonde-haired boy opened his mouth to say something to Connor, leaning in with every word he spoke. It wasn’t how close they were or the look in the other boy’s eye that bothered Troye. It was the resultant smile and laugh that took over Connor’s face at whatever remark he made that caused his heart to hurt.

He wasn’t jealous, not in the typical way at least. Not in the way that would make him want to go over to Connor and let this other guy know that the boy in front of him was taken and that he was just wasting his time. He was jealous because he knew that this random guy standing in front of him could give Connor something that Troye never could.

He could give him normalcy and consistency. He could be there in under an hour if Connor ever needed him. There would be no need for phone calls at odd hours of the day or constant travel around the world. There would be no more fights over distance, no more resentment over their busy schedules. Things would be simpler.

Troye felt his stomach tie into knots as that realization took hold. It wasn’t about this boy in particular, it was about _him_. _He_ only made Connor’s life harder and any other normal boy out there would be able to give Connor the things Troye knew he so desperately needed but never wanted to admit.

Troye didn’t pay attention to how Connor eventually brushed the other guy off, making his way back to their table to take the seat next to him. Blue eyes were focused on the drink in his hand and he was buried in his thoughts. He was spiraling. Every question, every argument, every doubt that had made itself known over the last few months was flooding him and he couldn’t escape. And every time he looked up and saw that smiling pair of green eyes it only made things worse.

Troye could feel the way he was closing in on himself and he stopped looking Connor in the eye, desperate to escape any reminder of how much he had probably been hurting him. Without actually meaning to for the rest of the night Troye moved away from Connor’s touch. He pulled in a friend any time the conversation began to feel like it was just between the two of them. His shoulders felt rigid and his knuckles were white as he finished off another drink before making his way to the bar right as Connor was headed in his direction.

He was so lost in himself, so focused on the sudden realization that what they had was broken and that it couldn’t be fixed—not now, at least, and maybe not ever—that he didn’t notice the way Connor’s face fell as he walked away or how the confusion laced his green eyes at Troye’s sudden change in demeanor. Without noticing, the exact thing Troye wanted to prevent was what he had just managed to cause once again.

\---

A few hours later they had finally arrived at home, the cab ride there being painfully silent and the strain between them feeling absolutely suffocating. No words had been said but Connor had eventually caught on that something was going on. He wasn’t totally oblivious—he knew things had been hard and for awhile everything had seemed forced—but he didn’t know what to say or do when Troye was staring at his hands wringing together in his lap, lips pulled tight and like he was on the verge of saying something he had been thinking for longer than he would have liked to admit.

That something came out ten minutes later when they were standing in Connor’s living room and Troye hadn’t moved much further than a foot from the door.

“I can’t be the guy that you want,” he said. It was the first thing out of his mouth in an hour and his voice felt rough and dry.

Connor’s forehead crinkled and his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at Troye for a solid minute, taking in every one of his features from his tired curls down to the mismatched socks on his feet. He noticed that Troye looked more tired than usual, smaller than he actually was—and Connor knew how much this must have been weighing on him.

Blue eyes looked up to meet incredulous green ones and they widened in shock when Connor let out a laugh.

“That’s ridiculous,” Connor said, because to him it really _was_ ridiculous. Troye was exactly the person he had always wanted.

But Troye couldn’t see that. All he could see was everything that had went wrong and the vicious cycle that they couldn’t seem to escape. He kept hearing the same arguments, the hurt in Connor’s voice, the sadness when every phone call came to an end. All he could see was the way his face fell whenever Troye disappointed him and the smile that he could never get him to keep.

“No,” Troye said defiantly after another minute had passed, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down the boy in front of him, “No, it’s not ridiculous. I _saw_ you, with that other guy. And you looked happy, even if it was for just a second. Because it was normal, _he_ was normal. And then I just couldn’t get the fucking idea of it out of my head because _I_ can’t give you that. I could never give you what he could,” he continued, rambling on at this point, the words spilling out before he could even think to stop them.

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” Connor asked incredulously, an eyebrow raising in surprise, “Because some guy was flirting with me at the bar? Because I _smiled_ at him?” Connor rolled his eyes and Troye finally noticed the flush on his cheeks, realizing that he was probably a lot more drunk than Troye had originally thought.

“No, no. It’s not that, it’s because I could never _be_ him. I could never _give_ you that—” Troye started again, but Connor cut him off.

“Are you kidding me?” the older boy said, his voice rising, “I don’t _want_ that. I didn’t even know the guy and I turned him down. Where are you even getting any of this?”

“You can’t have both, Connor,” Troye practically snapped. He was spiraling at this point, everything coming out at once and barely making any sense, “You can’t have me and the life you want because I can’t do that right now, I can’t give you that. I might never be able to give you that.”

“What the fuck do you know about what _I_ want?” Connor practically scoffed. It came out colder than he had meant it to and in a way that was eerily quiet. He was getting defensive and Troye could see it. He was scared of where this conversation was going as much as Troye was and he was responding the only way he knew how—with anger.

“I don’t,” Troye answered quietly, looking down at the floor, unable to keep looking him in the eyes, “That’s the point. I _don’t_ know what you want, that’s why I know it can’t be me.”

In the haze that was his mind, Troye felt like the silence between them was stretching on for hours. He couldn’t bring himself to look Connor in the eye and the boy in front of him wasn’t saying anything else, although he could practically feel the way his shoulders were shaking from where he was standing on the other side of the room.

The words were sticking in his throat and they didn’t want to come out. Minutes felt like they were turning into hours in a span of what felt like seconds and the silence was so loud it made his ears hurt. He couldn’t do this but he had to and that was the most terrifying thing in the world.

“Maybe we should break up,” Troye eventually said and the words came out almost like a whisper. Blue eyes looked up to see a jaw that had dropped and a look of surprise on Connor’s face that was almost comical given the situation.

Both of them had thought it but neither of them had ever imagined that the other would actually say it.

“Troye—,” Connor started, his voice losing all of the edge it had carried earlier as the panic started to seep in.

“Maybe we should end things,” Troye cut him off, his voice louder this time, more firm in what he was saying, more convinced that this was the right thing to do. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that was giving him this false sense of confidence in what he was saying or if that deep down he knew that this had been a long time coming.

“Troye,” Connor said again, his voice cracking. A second later Troye felt a tight hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up. _When had he gotten so close?_

“This is so—this is so _stupid_. None of this is making any sense,” Connor continued and Troye could see the panic in his eyes, see the tears that were building up along their edges and threatening to spill with every word.

“Troye, please,” Connor practically whispered, “We’re both drunk, it’s been a long night, can’t we just go to bed? Please?”

It was after that that Troye was forced to look into those eyes. They made him want to drown. Everything he did would hurt him. There was no escape; there was no good option. No matter what he did, not matter what he said, Connor would end up getting hurt.

So, this was it—the same thing that happened every time any time something like this came up. Sure, this time it had been worse than before—Troye had voiced his doubts more than ever. But Connor had this way of just shutting him down. He had this look on his face that made Troye never want to leave him. This way of reminding him every time he stood in front of him of exactly what he would be giving up if he walked away. And it was whenever Troye was faced directly with that idea that he knew how much he couldn’t handle it if he were to lose him—and it was because of this that he knew he would never be able to leave him.

No matter how many times the thought would cross his mind, he knew he could never actually do it because Connor would always be right there to pull him back him. He would always be there with those green eyes and that look on his face that made Troye want to do nothing other than hold him closer than he ever had before.

So, he gave in. He gave in like he always did because he couldn’t bear to fight with Connor any second longer. He felt a set of strong arms wrap around his body and he did the same, resting his head in the crook of Connor’s neck. He just wanted to stay there—to melt into Connor’s arms and pretend like everything was okay because it _was_ okay, at least for right now—at least in this one moment.

Yet despite how good everything felt when they were in each other’s arms, Troye knew that the second he left LA all of their old problems would start to creep back up. He knew that the minute that happened, he would think back to the boy at the bar that had made Connor smile—a smile that he hadn’t been able to get the other boy to keep in what felt like the longest time. Each day would go by and he would be reminded of all the things he could never give to him—he would remember how he was always going to hurt Connor—but then he would come home and they would be right where they are now, and the cycle would start again.

The thought made Troye hold onto him even tighter than he had been before and he could feel that Connor was doing the same. Neither of them was ready to let this go.

\---

It was 4AM and Troye had almost completely sobered up, although he hadn’t actually slept. Connor, on the other hand, was fast asleep, comfortably curled up beside him, forehead creased in worry even while he was dreaming.

After their argument they had gone to bed. No further words were exchanged, the subject wasn’t brought up again—they silently blamed the alcohol for what they had said and simply crawled into bed to forget it all before tomorrow. It all felt excessively normal and Troye couldn’t help but give into their routine. Deep down he knew that the conversation shouldn’t have ended there but in the moment, it was easier to just let it go.

But now it was 4AM and his mind, although much clearer than before, was still such a mess.

Blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, the same thoughts swirling in his mind and a weird feeling surging up through his chest. The fear, the hurt, the struggle of making it all work—all of it had finally taken its toll and tonight had been a wake up call. For the first time ever, Troye wasn’t able to shake this feeling off—he knew he couldn’t stay.

So as he laid there he turned his head to look at the boy sleeping peacefully beside him and he thought, _This is it, this is my out. This is the only way I’m going to be able to go because if I tell him again to his face then he'll convince me to stay._

It was easier this way, when Connor wasn’t laughing or smiling or reminding him why he had fallen so far in love with him in the first place. It was easy to watch him sleep, puff even breaths onto pillows that they had both always shared. It was easier because when he was watching him like this, he felt further away than ever—and disappearing felt like the easiest thing in the world to do.

After taking a deep breath, Troye got out of bed, quietly packing some of his things into a bag, leaving everything behind that he knew he wouldn’t miss, except the one thing he would miss the most.

He knew it was wrong. He knew this was the worst possible thing to do to someone you love and he also knew that Connor would never forgive him for doing it. He paused at that thought; it almost made him want to crawl back into bed and forget having even considered leaving.

But a second later he was back to packing his things because there was a part of him that just wanted to flee. A part of him that knew Connor hating him was the only way he could keep himself from ever coming back. He knew that leaving without giving Connor the chance to pull him back in was the the only way he could break the cycle—the only way for Connor to finally get all that he deserved out of life.

Yet once his bag was packed, Troye hesitated again, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen off of Connor’s desk. He couldn’t leave without saying anything because he knew it wasn’t fair and he loved him too much to not say anything at all. Once the note was complete, he placed it on the pillow his head had previously rested on before he threw his bag over his shoulder and headed to the door.

As he stood in the doorway to Connor’s bedroom he gave one last look over his shoulder at the sleeping boy behind him, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that was storming throughout Troye’s head and chest. Blissfully unaware of the silent storm he was going to wake up to. Troye took his time because he wanted that image of Connor to be ingrained in his mind for as long it possibly could be.

He hated every second of walking out of that house. Every minute of the cab ride to the airport. He hated the sickening feeling in his stomach and the way every fiber of his being made him want to turn around and go back. But every time that urge came he thought of Connor’s smile at the bar when he was talking to that other boy. He was reminded of every time his face fell when Troye had a change of plans and how much it hurt to know that it was his fault. It was because of all of this that he knew he had done exactly what he needed to do. It hurt now, but it would be better in the long run.

And as he was waiting to book a flight back home, the image of that piece of paper he had left on Connor’s pillow kept floating back into his mind. The words _“I’m sorry”_ scribbled in his sloppy handwriting and _“Know that I love you”_ being the last things he would ever say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> I’m really sorry for taking ages to write this. I promise I’ll keep trying and that I’m still here. You can follow me on twitter (latetroye) if you ever wanna keep in touch.
> 
> Love ya for sticking around and please let me know what you think of this lil mess.
> 
> xx Angela


	12. for him.

Troye was lying on the couch, his feet propped up on the armrest and his head resting comfortably in Connor’s lap. He could hear the faint sound of rain pattering against the window and the soft buzz of the documentary playing on the TV in front of him. He had closed his eyes awhile ago and Connor had probably assumed he was asleep, but he was in that comfortable place where your body is fully relaxed while your mind drifts in and out of consciousness—still peacefully aware of what’s going on around you, but only mildly concerned about any of it. The fresh smell of a candle burning permeated throughout the air and the flashes of light from the TV screen kept snaking past his eyelids in what was otherwise a dimly lit room. There was the occasional crack of thunder accompanied by a flash of lightening and the rhythm of Connor’s chest moving with every even breath he took gave Troye a sense of peace he hadn’t had while he’d been away.

He felt Connor’s fingers run through the curls on his head, pushing them up off his forehead and tangling in their depths for only a moment before his hand was gone and they bounced right back into place.

Troye couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips at the sensation and he felt Connor’s chest rumble against him with the soft laugh he let out afterward.

“Did I wake you up?” Connor asked softly. He wasn’t whispering and there was no reason to talk quietly—they were alone, after all—but there was something about Connor’s voice that matched the peaceful atmosphere of the moment and Troye was glad that sense of ease hadn’t been broken.

“No, I was never asleep,” Troye mumbled, eyes still closed as he felt Connor’s fingers move from his hair in order to ghost down his arm.

“Okay,” Connor said and Troye could practically hear the smirk on his face, knew he wasn’t convinced, “You should go to bed, you’re still jet-lagged.”

“No, it’s only like, 10pm,” Troye grumbled in response, flipping his hand when he felt Connor’s fingers on the back of his palm, loosely tangling them with his own.

“It’s actually only nine,” Connor corrected, and when Troye opened one eye to glare up at him, he let out another laugh—always strikingly loud but somehow never disruptive.

But that glare on Troye’s face didn’t last for long as both of his eyes opened to take in the pair of green ones smiling down at him, crinkled at the edges and managing to sparkle despite the lack of light in the room.

It was in that moment that Troye felt that weird feeling surge up through his chest—almost as if something were squeezing his heart and pushing it higher than it was supposed to go, tickling the edges and making his breath catch in his throat. It was a feeling he had gotten used to—something that happened at random times and whenever he least expected it to. All Connor had to do was smile, or say something, or give him that look that he only ever seemed to give to Troye and that’s when Troye would feel it in his chest. For a second that feeling would completely take over—and Troye was never sure if it would go away—but every time it settled, never fully disappearing but moving on to someplace else until it could be forgotten and brought about again at a later time.

He had gotten used to it—the first time it happened he had been confused and even a little concerned, but since then it had become something normal, something he appreciated—something he wasn’t sure he could live without.

He had a clear memory of the first time he felt it and every time after that—all of the little moments that added up to something bigger. With blue eyes shining back up at green ones, Troye couldn’t help the fond smile that spread over his lips as he remembered.

 

\---  
  
Troye let his elbow rest on the edge of the window, his arm dangling out so that the wind could dance through his fingers and ruffle up the curls on his head. They were driving down a relatively empty road with music softly emanating from the radio, just loud enough to be heard but quiet enough so as not to disturb the comfortable silence they had made for themselves. The sun was setting and there was a faint orange glow to everything that passed them by, adding a layer of warmth to the air between them.

Occasionally Troye would shift his gaze from the scenery outside his window to the boy sitting on his left. Connor always seemed to be able to feel those blue eyes focusing on him because within a second he would be looking back, a small smile finding its place upon his lips. Troye would bite back a smile of his own, teeth catching on his lower lip before his gaze shifted back to the line of trees that were passing them by outside.

They had gotten bored sitting in Connor’s apartment and decided to go for a drive. There was no sense of purpose or direction to what they were doing—it was just time to be spent with one another, time to sit in companionable silence with the wind blowing through their hair and familiar songs floating through the air.

LA was a big city but sometimes it was easy to feel stuck—to always end up at the same places seeing the same people. There was something to be said for the familiarity of it all but also something to be said for how that familiarity could confine you. But for Troye, something as simple as driving down an open road made him feel less trapped—made him feel like something new was out there and he wasn’t that far from reaching it—and every time he looked to his left he was reminded about how he didn’t have to do any of this alone.

Troye couldn’t tell you how much longer they spent driving before Connor pulled into a gas station. Troye got out of the car without a word, wandering into the store just to give himself something to do while Connor filled up the car. He moved quietly throughout the aisles, occasionally picking things up before dropping them back into place, aimlessly staring at the variety of drinks and snacks in front of him.

His eyes eventually landed on the wall behind the counter, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk as he got an idea. He was checking out when he heard the chime of the door behind him and he looked over his shoulder to watch Connor as he walked in, probably having wondered what was taking him so long in the first place.

“You ready?” Connor asked, raising an eyebrow at whatever Troye was holding in his hand.

“Yeah,” Troye responded with a smile, tucking his wallet back into his pocket before heading back out the door.

“Did you buy cigarettes?” Connor said with a laugh as he followed him out, heading in the direction of his car.

“Not _real_ ones,” Troye answered, looking over his shoulder at the boy behind him—at how he was shaking his head, an edge of silent laughter surrounding him and the smallest of smiles still present on his face. Troye just rolled his eyes in response, “Can I drive?” he asked a second later.

Connor just raised an eyebrow at him, taking a second to think before tossing him his keys and sliding into the passenger seat without another word.

“I got you a lottery ticket too,” Troye said with a grin as he sat in the driver’s seat, tossing the little square of paper as well as one of the electronic cigarettes into Connor’s lap, “Livin’ large.”

“Who _are_ you?” Connor laughed, picking up the e-cigarette and holding it an inch away from his face, inspecting the packaging.

Troye didn’t respond, he just laughed in return as he started up the engine, pulling the car out of the gas station and heading back in the direction they had come.

“How does this even work?” Connor said about five minutes later, staring at the little piece of plastic he had finally taken out of its wrapping.

Troye just shrugged, picking up the other package and staring at it for a moment before tearing it open with his teeth, “I don’t know, I think you just suck on it.”

Connor let out a snort of laughter, “ _O_ kay,” he said, hesitating for a moment before placing it between his lips and taking a deep breath. He puffed the vapor out the window, watching as it disappeared about as quickly as it had arrived.

Troye did the same, watching the front light up as he took air into his lungs before allowing the vapor to escape his lips and settle over the steering wheel.

They continued their drive with a few more minutes of silence, Troye’s eyes shifting over to watch the way Connor’s hand kept coming back up to his lips, the way the artificial smoke would drift past them, how he kept bringing up his other hand to drag through his hair and his eyes slipped closed as he rested his head on the back of the seat.

“Watch the damn road,” Connor eventually mumbled, one eye peeking open to look at Troye and the corner of his lips curling up into the tiniest of smirks.

Troye could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he shifted his eyes back to the street. It was ridiculous, really. Ridiculous to be embarrassed about being caught staring after all this time—with how comfortable they were around each other—but he was anyway.

“This is dumb,” Troye eventually said with a laugh, finally looking back over to Connor who was fully smiling this time, shaking his head with more silent laughter in his eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” Connor agreed, “But if you’re determined to be rebellious, I might have something else in mind,” he said, clicking open the glove box and rifling around in it before pulling out a small plastic bag.

Troye raised one eyebrow in confusion before both shot up as he realized what Connor was holding in his hand.

“Why do you have that in your _car_?” Troye laughed, snatching it from him in order to get a better look at it, as if he couldn’t truly believe that Connor fucking Franta would have a stash of weed in his car.

“JC gave it me,” Connor said with a shrug, “And I didn’t want it my house. Take a left at the light, I know the perfect place.”

Troye smirked, tossing the bag back into Connor’s lap and shooting one final glance in his direction before focusing his eyes back on the road, “Okay.”

Ten minutes later Troye had parked in a gravel drive and was following Connor up a dirt path. The sun had mostly set and there was only a faint glow illuminating their way and casting shadows across their path.

They reached the top of the hill about five minutes later and Troye’s eyes widened in shock, “Holy shit,” he said, taking a step in front of Connor, blue eyes scanning the perfect view of the Los Angeles city skyline, everything backlit by the fading sun.

“Told you it was perfect,” Connor said, coming up behind him to press a gentle kiss to the back of Troye’s neck—one that sent a shiver down his spine. He moved away a second later, sitting down on the grass and pulling the joints out of his pocket along with a lighter, placing one between his lips before cupping his hands around the flame to block out the wind as he took a deep breath in.

Troye watched as Connor closed his eyes, letting the smoke burn past his throat and fill up his lungs. They eventually fluttered back open to catch blue staring back at him once again but this time Troye didn’t blush. Connor reached up a hand to offer the joint to Troye, who took one more look back out at the city before sitting down to join him and taking a drag.

At some point Troye had lost all sense of time. The sun had completely set and they had both fallen onto their backs. Troye could feel the grass tickling his neck and how the wind was blowing his t-shirt loosely about his frame, revealing the slightest bit of pale skin just above the waistband of his jeans that made him shiver whenever Connor ran his fingers over it.

He was staring up at a dark sky, watching the clouds roll in at what felt like an alarmingly slow pace and occasionally finding the sparkle of a few stars that had made their way through the LA smog. He could hear the wind rustling through the trees in a way that almost let him feel their sound and his body felt so heavy that he was certain he would be content laying there for years.

A sense of ease had taken over him. His head was resting just slightly on Connor’s shoulder and he was acutely aware of every breath the other boy took. Every part of his being felt like it was in sync with the the slow rise and fall of Connor’s chest.

“What if it doesn’t last?” Troye asked, the thought suddenly dawning on him as he turned his head to the side and toward the older boy’s face.

It was something Troye had never really thought of before—the possibility that any of this could ever come to an end. He had always known that it could happen, of course—known that the likelihood of anything lasting forever was unfeasible—but the thought of them not lasting, the thought of Connor not always being a part of his life in some way, was a future that Troye had never cared to entertain.

But now the thought was here—the idea that one day Connor might not be the person lying next to him, might not be the person he saw whenever he turned his head, might not be the laugh he heard ringing throughout an otherwise quiet room.

It was the thought that one day, whatever they had between them might be gone. And now that that thought was here it wasn’t scary like Troye had imagined it would be—it was just something that he couldn’t make any sense of. And he knew that was ridiculous, because _of course_ it made sense, people broke up all the time—they drifted apart, things change, and stories come to an end.

But in this moment—Troye couldn’t imagine a life without Connor in it.

“What?” Connor asked, confused by the question as he tilted his head down to look at Troye, eyes glazed and red but still holding a look that said he would take anything that came out of Troye’s mouth seriously.

“What if we don’t last?” Troye said, quieter this time.

Connor stared at him for a minute, his eyebrows furrowing in the slightest and his eyes glancing down and away as he considered what Troye had just said to him. From the look on Connor’s face it was obvious that he had never really thought about it either—not in anyway that truly mattered.

But a second later those green eyes were back on his blue ones and any concern that had been on Connor’s face was gone. There was a look of resolution there—an intensity and not a shred of doubt—and before he knew it, Connor was leaning into him, catching his lips with his own.

Troye let his eyes slip closed—let himself sink into the feeling of Connor’s touch, to melt into the way his mouth opened against his lips and shiver at the feeling of his tongue sliding past his own.

It was the first time Troye felt that tightening in his chest—the way it felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach and it suddenly became so much harder to breath.

Later on he would blame it on being high—until he noticed it happening again and again, at different times and in different places. Suddenly it would become a familiar sensation, one that he’d learn to appreciate instead of be afraid of.

When Connor pulled away he ran his thumb across Troye’s bottom lip, leaving his skin tingling in its path. After that, Troye never gave that question a second thought.

It didn’t matter whether or not it lasted. Because they had right now, and right now was perfect.  
  
  
*****

Troye ran a hand through the mess of curls on his head, letting out a tired sigh as he searched through his pockets for the key card to his hotel room. It had been a long day full of interviews and meetings, scheduled back to back without him leaving any space to breath. It wasn’t often that this happened, but at the moment he was feeling particularly run down. It’s that feeling you get when you are doing too much and you know you need to slow down—when you’re impossibly tired and know you have to take a break, need to take a minute just to catch up to yourself, but at the same time know that you can’t—you know that you just have to bear through it until it inevitably comes to an end.

That’s how Troye felt right now, impossibly busy with no end in sight—things were finally catching up to him.

After a minute of searching, Troye finally found his key, swiping it through the slot and hearing the familiar click of the door unlocking before he pushed it open. He was looking down as he first walked in, sliding his key back into his pocket, still lost in his own head. He didn’t look up until he heard the faint clicking of someone typing on a keyboard, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as his eyes landed on the boy sitting in the middle of his bed.

Troye had almost forgotten that Connor had gotten in the night before. He was so used to coming home to a quiet, empty hotel room and his day had been so busy and routine that an empty bed was all he had expected when he walked through the door.

Instead he was happy to find a mess of sandy brown hair and a pair of bare shoulders hunching over a computer screen. Green eyes glanced up, the corner of Connor’s mouth turning up into a smile when he saw Troye, “Hey,” he said, before looking back at his screen.

“Hey,” Troye said, his smile softening but not disappearing. He had stopped in his tracks when he noticed Connor, only a little annoyed with himself for practically forgetting he would be there. But honestly, having it feel more like a surprise even when it wasn’t was almost better.

Troye took the time to take in the scene before him—Connor sitting shirtless and cross-legged in the middle of the bed, his laptop resting on his knees as he edited a video. Blue eyes gazed over the slope of Connor’s shoulders, across the sharp line of his collarbone, and down the expanse of his back. He took in every stray freckle, the toned muscles of Connor’s arms, and the way his hands moved as his fingers ghosted over the keyboard. His eyes shifted back up to Connor’s face, where he was chewing on his bottom lip, eyebrows knit as he focused on whatever he was doing.

“I ordered you room service, figured you’d be hungry. It’s over there,” Connor said matter-of-factly, nodding to the corner of the room without looking up from his screen.

Troye glanced in the direction Connor indicated and sure enough, dinner was waiting for him—while his boyfriend was shirtless and busying himself with work while he waited for him to come home. It was so fucking domestic that Troye knew it should’ve made his eyes roll into the back of his head, but instead there it was—that feeling that took over whenever Connor did something like this, the way his breath caught in his throat and his heart swelled in his chest. It was overwhelming, but he was starting to get used to it.

Troye barely had a second thought before he was moving towards the bed, gently pushing Connor’s computer from his lap and replacing it with himself, one leg on either side of him.

“What’re you—,” Connor started before he was granted with a lapful of Troye, his hands moving unconsciously to rest on Troye’s hips, “Hi,” he finished with a smile, green eyes looking up to meet blue ones.

“Hi,” Troye responded, teeth catching on his bottom lip as he bit back a smile, arms moving to hang loosely around Connor’s neck, fingers tangling in the short hair on the back of his head.

“Your food is gonna get cold,” Connor said, moving one hand to trail down Troye’s arm before letting it come to rest on his thigh instead.

“I don’t mind,” Troye said, tilting his head as the corner of his lip pulled up into a smile, before leaning down to catch Connor’s lips with his own. That feeling in his chest had dimmed but it was still present, no longer a centralized sensation but one that spread throughout his whole body—one that he could feel buzzing from the top of his head down to his toes.

_I could get used to this_ , Troye thought. It was the last thing that crossed his mind before Connor was falling back onto the bed, pulling Troye down with him as he went.

 

*****

Troye laughed, throwing an arm around his best friend’s shoulder and pressing a drunken kiss to her cheek, earning him a laugh in return. The music was loud and the club was dark—it was late but Troye could feel the alcohol happily pulsing through his veins as he finished off the drink in his hand.

He was smiling out at the dance floor, where he was watching a ruffled mess of brown hair dancing and laughing with the rest of his friends. It was nice, Troye thought, to see Connor here, in Perth, just as at home with his childhood friends as he was—he didn’t look an inch out of place.

A second later green eyes caught his own and Troye couldn’t stop the way his smile spread further across his face when Connor flashed a grin his direction, waving him over.

The club was dark and Troye was certain no one else noticed how Connor’s hand rested on the small of his back, occasionally dipping lower. He was also sure no one noticed the subsequent shiver that ran up his spine or how Connor kept leaning closer to him than he needed to whenever he wanted to say something to Troye.

It was when Connor’s hand slipped under his shirt to run his fingers across the smooth skin above the waistband of his jeans that Troye snapped his head to the side in order to give Connor an incredulous look, and he laughed when he was met with a smirk playing on a set of thin lips and a devious sparkle highlighting those green eyes.

Connor always got like this when he was a little tipsy—more handsy than he normally would be in public and less concerned with the fact that people might notice them.

“C’mon,” Troye mumbled, grabbing at the arm that had been adventuring under his shirt in order to pull Connor outside of the club. At this point the alcohol that was running through his veins was strong enough that he didn’t really care about disappearing on his friends—all he could focus on was Connor—and the way his hair kept falling over his forehead and that stupid _hand_ and how those fingertips had felt when they were ghosting across his skin and—

“Where are we going?” Connor laughed, interrupting Troye’s train of thought as he dragged the older boy out into the fresh night air, finally letting go of his arm.

“ _Home_ ,” Troye said with a pointed look and Connor just laughed again, giving a quick look around before taking Troye’s face into both of his hands and pressing a kiss onto his lips.

Troye felt his hands instinctively move to hold onto Connor’s arms and he let out a noise that was meant to be a protest but ended up sounding like anything but that. Connor pulled away a second later, letting their foreheads rest together for a moment as he closed his eyes and let out a breath before dropping his hands and taking a step back, towards the sidewalk, “This us?” he asked as a cab pulled up along the curb.

All Troye could do was give a slow nod as Connor slid into the backseat of the car. He managed to follow him after a moment, mind hazy from both the alcohol and the kiss that still lingered on his lips.

Connor’s head was resting against the back of the seat the whole ride home, eyes peacefully closed and hair falling off of his face. Troye would have assumed he was asleep if it weren’t for the hand that was running slowly up and down his thigh, giving it the occasional squeeze. Everything Connor was doing was driving him insane and even though he looked like he didn’t notice, Troye was sure the older boy knew exactly what he was doing.

Fifteen minutes felt like an hour before the cab pulled up in front of Troye’s house. Without a word, he pulled Connor through the back gate into the dimly lit yard, the little light there was reflecting off of the water in the pool, adding a faint glow to everything around them.

As soon as the gate closed behind them, Troye had Connor’s back pressed up against the wall, bodies flush together as he captured lips within his own. Troye could feel the smile on Connor’s face as he kissed him back, his hands settling into their familiar place on Troye’s hips.

The kiss lasted for a while but eventually Connor’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, lips pulling away so that he could rest his chin on Troye’s shoulder instead. Troye’s arms relaxed from where they had been tangled around Connor’s neck, fingers that had been knotted in the back of Connor’s hair falling away to brush loosely along his skin.

He let out a shaky breath into Connor’s ear before closing his eyes, trying to focus through the blurry mess that was currently his mind; mentally kicking himself for how much four drinks was hitting him.

“We should go for a swim,” Connor said suddenly, snapping Troye out of his thoughts, and before he could even really process what was going on, Connor had lifted him up off the ground and taken a step towards the pool.

Troye’s arms tightened around Connor’s shoulders as his eyes flashed open in a panic, “Connor! Don’t you dare,” Troye said, as seriously he could manage, but at the same time he couldn’t hold back the laugh that forced its way past his lips.

Connor just laughed in return, burying his face in the crook of Troye’s neck. “Shh, you’re gonna wake up your parents,” he said, before pressing a kiss where his lips connected with Troye’s skin, holding him there for a moment before finally setting him down.

The action made Troye dizzy and he kept a hand Connor’s shoulder to balance himself before he moved to sit down on a lawn chair, letting out a dramatic huff of air as he stretched his body across it.

His eyes were closed but Connor’s laugh rang so clearly throughout the night air that Troye could see the smile on his face despite it. “You’re gonna be feeling this tomorrow morning,” Connor said softly, sitting on the edge of the chair next to him and running his fingers through Troye’s hair.

“No, I’m not, I just need to sit for a minute,” Troye mumbled and Connor laughed again, much softer this time.

“Okay,” Connor answered, not sounding entirely convinced.  
  
Troye woke up the next morning in his own bed, with a pounding in his skull and no memory of how he had gotten from the backyard to his bedroom. He sat up with a groan, a hand coming to his forehead and his eyes squeezing shut as his head swam. He eventually managed to open them enough to notice that Connor wasn’t in bed beside him, but before a frown could even think about pulling across his lips the older boy was making his way into his room.

He was holding two mugs of coffee and wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. A pair of sweatpants that were clearly Troye’s, considering how they were just a little too tight on him. But he looked perfect—his hair a ruffled mess, deep green eyes still clouded with sleep, the way the sun shining through the window was reflecting off of his skin—and despite the pounding in his head, Troye managed to smile.

It was in that moment that Troye felt his chest tighten in that familiar way and for a second he completely forgot about his impending hangover. He was completely consumed by how Connor looked entirely at home—bringing him coffee in his own house, wearing his clothes—as if they had done all of this a thousand times over.

As always, Troye couldn’t stop that familiar feeling that took over his chest and this time, he didn’t want to. He didn’t care how completely it took over, how it made everything else seem insignificant.

He knew what that feeling was, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.

“Morning,” Connor said, voice still heavy with sleep, “Figured you’d need this,” he added, holding up one of the mugs in his hand.

Troye smiled, taking another good look at the boy standing in front of him before he nodded and said, “More than you know.”

 

  
\---

“What’s that look for?” Connor’s voice drifted through his ears, snapping Troye out of his memories and wiping off the ridiculous smile that had somehow found its way onto his face.

“Nothing,” Troye said with a laugh and a slight shake of his head, looking down to where their hands were still tangled together beside him on the couch, a much softer smile eventually settling onto his face.

When Troye looked back up, his eyes were met with a pair of startling green ones and he felt his chest tighten all over again, in that way that was no longer scary but now completely comforting.

“I love you,” he said, without even thinking about it.

Connor’s eyes softened and his lips turned up into a smile, “I love you too,” he said, without missing a beat, “C’mon, let’s go to bed,” he added a second later, tugging on Troye’s hand as he stood up, forcing him to sit up from where his head had been resting on Connor’s lap.

The nerves came a little later—when they were both standing in the bathroom getting ready for bed and Troye shot a look over to his side to where Connor stood beside him as they both brushed their teeth. But that small prickle of nerves he had was immediately soothed away by the softening of Connor’s eyes and that little smile on his face that he only ever had saved for Troye.

And it was as Troye crawled underneath the covers, feeling that familiar warmth of Connor’s arms wrapping around his waist and hearing the steady beat of Connor’s heart as he laid his head against his chest, that Troye realized saying those three words wasn’t a big deal at all—because even though it was the first time they had said it out loud, he knew they had been saying it for so long without any words at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever written because the inspiration was so few and far between. 
> 
> Hope it at least made a smile cross your face, because I know it did for me when I was writing it.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and thanks for stickin' around xx Angela


End file.
